The Americanization Of Ivan Braginsky
by velocitygirl4455
Summary: The Cold War was 19 years over, but tension still remained between Alfred and Ivan. That is, until one very boring Friday in April when, as luck should have it, Alfred was just bored enough to send a text message to the ex-commie himself and change it all
1. Chapter 1

Alfred F. Jones was bored.

Not that he didn't have every video game possible, every movie you could want, and all the music and books he could need. No, he was bored because he honestly had nothing better to do. Well, nothing he actually _wanted_ to do, thinking of the pile of papers he had left in his inbox at the office.

Everyone was busy in meetings or off fighting in conflicts or doing _something. Even Iggy has something better to do than text me._

He sat on his overly large couch and looked through the numbers of all the countries he could try, trying to think of who didn't have anything better to do.

_No… no… no… no… no… no… no… no… Russia?_

That was an interesting thought. He could text Russia, he hadn't bothered the Russki since the nineties anyway, well not on a personal level anyway, so he opened the texting app and started to type out a message: _Hey dude, what up? _ And he hit send before his brain was even able to process what he was doing.

He was just bored after all.

-AFJ—IB-

Just one more… One more of those pesky little business cards and his scale model of the Winter Palace would be complete. Ivan Braginsky had been slaving over this new project for nearly three and a half hours now, as a deterrent from doing actual work. He could deal with Georgia, or Belarus, or Poland, or the Koreas, or a handful of the Middle Eastern countries, he could even begin his assault on the papers for the 2014 Sochi games… But, why would anyone _want_ to? The day was surprisingly warm and sunny for April in Moscow and the rays of sun drifting in lazily through the open window made him sleepy more than anything... Not that he could just leave if he wanted to. _Nyet_, he had to _work_.

Well, he had to be in work at least, it would take great force to motivate him on such a day and he just wanted to be left alone with his business cards from stuffy executive types, his sunny window, and his lit cigarette.

But things have a way of going awry very quickly for the largest of the nations.

As Ivan reached for the last of the cards that he had strewn across his already paper filled (Yet extremely organized, a habit he could not kick from his days as Soviet Russia) desk, something monumental and devastating happened… _His phone received a text message._ Just a simple message, could have been from anyone, that was not the problem. The problem was the proximity from the card palace to his phone. The three inch gap on his rickety old card table he usually used as a sorting bin of sorts. Those three inches on those rickety legs (One of which had been leveled to the rest by a copy of The Communist Manifesto since the early nineties) and that all to powerful vibrate function on that accursed phone.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, as so many momentous things do, the table gave a little wiggle and a little wobble, and then the destruction happened. Slowly at first, just some aftershock like shakes quaking the palace's foundation, _Perhaps we are safe yet. …Probably not,_ Ivan thought, and was indeed correct. With another shudder, the cards turned horizontally, slowly at the bottom and growing quicker and quicker as the shakes went higher up his old work place. They all fell, every last one of them, and Ivan could do nothing but stare. Stare and wonder what was so important that this person had to decimate his distraction and escape just to tell him. _Someone had better be dying…_ he thought as he made his way over his fallen masterpiece. _…Maybe England~_ He mused almost hopefully, with that trademark chuckle building in the back of his throat.

He opened the phone, "_1 новое сообщение_" He clicked the message. And stared some more.

"Hey dude, what up?"

Sent from… "_Америка_?" He wondered aloud. What would America, his enemy of so many years, want now? After nearly nineteen years of snide remarks and tense conversations only at world meetings, this wasn't exactly a message he expected to receive… But, it would be impolite to not answer him… _Da_?

"Privet, Amerika… Kak dela?" He looked over the message, nothing to committing, just a simple response to a simple message, right? It wasn't like they hated each other anymore, maybe they annoyed each other, but no longer _hated_… "Maybe Amerika wants to be friends again…~?" Ivan asked himself as he sat in his chair and took another long drag on his cigarette. "Just kidding~ That would be such a silly thing to assume…~"

-AFJ—IB-

Alfred was getting an extremely large leftover Subway sub from the fridge when he felt his pocket buzz.

_Privet Amerika… Kak dela?_

"What the fuck?" he looked at it again. That wasn't English. Or American even. He closed the fridge, setting the sandwich on the island and typed out: _What the hell? That ain't English. Or American. And you spelt my name wrong. :p_ He sent the message and began his attack on the sandwich, heroically devouring the hero.

At least it wasn't death threats he couldn't understand or jokes about that whole condom thing. _That was _majorly_ annoying. _But at least the commie, well, he wasn't a commie anymore, but the principle stuck, and at least the commie wasn't a commie anymore.

_Wait, what?_ Alfred thought, chewing the sandwich more vigorously. Thinking was hard work for heroes after all! And that sentence was weird.

-AFJ—IB- -IB—AFJ-

_Buzz-uzz-uzz… _There was that buzzing again, though Ivan was expecting it this time, perhaps not so quickly, but was expecting it none the less. He heaved a sigh as he read over Alfred's newest text message and flicked the cigarette out of the open window and onto the dewy grass three stories down. '_And you spelt my name wrong. :p_' Well, that accusation would not stand, as he was spelling it the correct way for Russian. Why should he compromise himself for this small blonde haired man?

_Well, Amerika, I see no merit in speaking in Amerikan. If I had been victorious after our little bout and it was your country that had fallen, would you be so quick to speak Russian?_ He wondered if there was anything he had forgotten to add. He could add some snide remark about Amerika's weight or his troubles with oil… But, he really was just not feeling it. He had work to do and he was hoping to perhaps stop by the market on his way home to pick up some groceries.

Pressing the 'send' button and setting the phone back on his desk, he headed downstairs for a refreshed cup of coffee and perhaps a late lunch…

-IB—AFJ- -AFJ—IB- -IB—AFJ-

He was finishing off the sandwich and thinking about finishing it off with a trip to McDonald's when his phone buzzed again.

He read the message, blinking. _Was he playing the hypothetical game?_

He typed: _Are you playing the hypothetical game? Because I totally kicked your ass IRL. Really. And no, I wouldn't speak Russian. American's too awesome for that! :D Anyway, whatcha doin'?_

_Ha, _he thought, grabbing the keys to his ninja car and driving to McDonald's, _take that._

-AFJ—IB- -IB—AFJ-

He stared for a few seconds at the newest message. "Why is Amerika being so talkative…?" He asked no one in particular, not that there was anyone to ask. It was a Friday, after all, and one with such fair weather? Who would _want_ to come to the Kremlin, even those who worked here had left early to seize the day or some such silly thing. All that was left was the custodial staff coming in early to perhaps get some time off themselves and the head secretary with her long lightly tanned legs and her long brown hair. Ivan had always loved his Gypsy children, they were always so beautiful and so free… _But then why does Natasha work here…?_ He wondered as Natasha herself walked into the room, but quickly left with a bright red blush and a small squeak. Ivan just sighed and pulled a bottle of Vodka out from his jacket's pocket and added it to his coffee. _She must have acquired that frame of mind from his father… He was in the military, I believe… _He shook his head to return from his thoughts and leaned against the counter, again reading the message. _IRL?_ "What is IRL…? Industrial Revolution… Liberation?" He could not make heads or tails of the exuberant American's most recent message…

_Shto? What does the IRL stand for? I cannot think of anything that is relevant to the subject manner… Anyway, Amerikan is not a language and I am at work…_

He always knew the young nation was a bit thick skulled, but did he not know when to stop and leave someone alone to do their work…?

-IB—AFJ- -AFJ—IB-

Sitting on the hood of his shiny black car, enjoying the April sun and the ever-so-delicious Mickey D's, his phone buzzed again. Reading it through, he typed back a quick response.

'_Shto'? and IRL is for In Real Life. It totes is and that sounds boring. :p I skipped out of work today. FREEEEEDOM~! ;DDDD_

Foreigners were so weird sometimes.

-AFJ—IB- _**-IB—AFJ-**_

On his walk back to his office, his phone buzzed once again. "Persistent, are we not…?" He mused aloud while reading the message. ';DDDD'? Department of Defense of Dogs in Danger? Then, what was the ';' for? He made a mental note to research this. America liked dogs, right? He often would commend them for their loyalty and he himself really was quite a bit like a dog… Always smiling and with boundless energy and just so… So… Not innocent, nyet, that was not the word Ivan searched for… "Idiotic, perhaps…?" Ivan would probably be consider more of a cat… Temperamental, flighty, longs to be warm, likes to just lie out in the sun whenever possible… _But, that would be no good~ I would be allergic to myself…~ _He thought with a shrug and a sad smile as he sat back at his chair, deciding that he, too, should be done for the day (It was in the mid-50s! How could one resist?) as he thought of a responding message.

_Da, da, I know what occupies your mind. Freedom, Football, and McDonald's, da? It is only a hunch, but I am guessing you are enjoying your 'freedom' with some ungodly cheeseburger and package of French fries (Or are they still 'Freedom Fries'?) the size of a small dog in your car as we converse. Am I correct? Probably dreaming of your Superb Bowl or what have you…_

He packed his work up and headed out into the streets of Moscow, shading his eyes from the bright sun and lighting a fresh cigarette as he headed towards Perekrestok to pick up some cheap Vodka and other necessities to shut up the annoying little voice in his head and the annoying little words on his phone…

"Perhaps I will also stop at Moskovskiy Dom Knigi…?" He asked the air, "I have been needing some new literature to read, I think… Clear the mind and such…" He shook his head, "Whom am I even addressing? No one cares…~" And he headed off into the bustling crowds with scarf blowing behind him and cigarette smoke trailing out in long tendrils, like a path of some sort to follow.

-IB—AFJ- _-AFJ—IB-_

He got the next text message when he was driving back to his house. _Should I look at it? _He asked himself. _No! It's against the law! Hero's always follow the law! …but a little peek wouldn't hurt right? After all, _everybody_ does it…_

Alfred quickly looked at the new message and scanned it. Something about fries and a dog and the 'Superb Bowl', _whatever the fuck that was. _

He put the phone down as he finished driving to his house, the large farmhouse structure and guesthouse empty except for Tony, and parked in the large garage with his multitude of cars. Getting out and going into the sun again before climbing the steps to his porch, he fired back a message: _Well, yeah, but football season is over. And it's the _Super Bowl_ dork. It finished back in February though. __ And I _was_ eatin' some delish Mickey D's, but now I'm back home~ _

He entered his empty house, flipping on the lights. Sure, it had been full for a while, but all the states had grown. Alfred remembered the night the Thirteen Originals had all shown up.

_It was May 29, 1790. It had been a hot, stormy day and the wind was blowing just as fiercely at night. But all it did was blow at his newly constructed just-outside-of-Washington D.C home. He was sitting; re-reading _The Federalist Papers_ that Alexander had lent him, when there was a knock on the door. He got up quickly, springing to the door and wrenching it open easily despite the push of the wind._

_There they sat. 13 small children that were strangers to him yet with varying degrees of blue eyes, all staring back with a familiarity. The oldest one stepped forward, a girl with long brown hair and blue eyes exactly like his own._

"_Daddy?" She was only four years old. _The First State_. "D-Daddy, it's Delaware." She sniffled. "We n-need you Daddy. Please, h-h-help us." And with that, his life as not only the nation of states began, but as the _father_ of the states started._

He avoided telling any other nations about his children. He didn't want them to be taken away or to be attacked or wooed by the others. Of course that Canadia guy knew and his Iggy~, but otherwise, he was mum on the subject. Lips sealed, throw away the key.

After his children started arriving, he began reconstructing his house, building it bigger and bigger. And then adding a third floor altogether for himself and his stuff, leaving the second floor for his states and guests. He left them an open field for play and had them help with the building once they were old enough. _That is, until the _Civil War_, then the house sat unfinished and broken until after the war._

But Alfred didn't like to remember the Civil War so he went to go play a game violent enough that he would forget.

-AFJ—IB— . . . =J= . . . –IB—AFJ-

Looking from one to the other and back again, he weighed the plusses and minuses of purchasing a new copy of War and Peace or to buy a novel by an up and coming new author. On the one hand, this was a most well loved story (One he could quite probably recite cover to cover), and his copy was so thoroughly worn that some of the pages were missing. His first edition copy of the book was still at his old old home in St. Petersburg because he most certainly did not enjoy visiting that home since… Well, best not to think of it, da? _Anyway…_ He shook his head to clear the image of the two remaining young girls, covered in their family's blood and looking at their country with those _eyes_…

_ANYWAY._ He thought more forcefully, on the other hand this new book was, well, _new_. And the Medvedev/Putin administration did always preach modernization and new ideas… But! Tradition was important, too, right? He thought on it for a bit more before putting the new book back and checked his buzzing phone and the accompanying message. _Who likes Sci-Fi anyway, right…?_ He thought as he dispensed the currency for his book and typed out a short response.

_Delish is not a word. Durak._

He did not feel much like speaking, he felt like going home and curling up in a square of sun with a bottle of Vodka and his new old book and perhaps some sunflower seeds…~ That would be such a nice snack…~

-IB—AFJ-

Durak? He paused his game, watching the pixilated people of Acre freeze and dissapear into the Animus as he typed back: _Durak? Whut? I'm majorly confused dude. . And it is~_

He went back into the game and back into the dream within a dream.

-AFJ—IB—

Three… Two… One… Buzz-uzz! _Just in time…_

_Da. Durak. And is not. Durak. …That face looks stupid. ^J^_

Maybe if he ignored the phone, it would stop buzzing…~? _Probably not… Is silly to hope for…_

-IB—AFJ—

_No, I meant, what does that mean? I don't speak Russian bud._

-AFJ—IB—

_Well. Maybe it would be helpful if you were to learn, da? I give you so many of your scientists and Hockey players, after all. Not to mention Alaska…_

-IB—AFJ— 3

_Hey! You leave him out of this! He's a good kid, thanks to my parenting! :P _

-AFJ—IB—

Well. _That_ was an interesting thing to say… Ivan cocked an eyebrow and typed a response

'_He' is a 'good kid' thanks to your 'parenting', Amerika…?_

Ivan would appreciate some answers, that was for sure…

-IB—AFJ—

"Oh shit." That was about the only thing he could say in a situation like this.

_Uh, yeah, sorry. I had a spelling mistake. Oops._

_Nice save, Jones._ He thought, working on a plate of cookies. _Nice save._

-AFJ—IB—

America had always been an abysmal liar, but a _spelling mistake_? Nyet, nyet, this seemed highly unlikely.

_Amerika, you gouged part of my back out to receive that land. What is it you are hiding from me, Comrade?_

-IB—AFJ—

Sometimes, you just had to face the music. And Iggy always said he was a crappy liar. _Hero's just aren't good at lying for a reason._

_Ew… Fine. I don't tell a lot of people this and you can't tell anyone, but the states are like us. All fifty of'em. And Alaska is a good kid. So don't go sayin' anything bad about him. _

-AFJ—IB—

Well. This was not what he was expecting to hear today.

_States like us?_

How was one to respond to such information…? Not that he hadn't had a sneaking suspicion, he and Alf— _Nyet. We are not yet there. Amerika, Amerika is what I call him now because Amerika is what his title is… _Regardless of the name, the two of them had been fair friends before this whole "COMMIES ARE EVIL AND SUCK EVIL COMMIE DICK FOR VODKA AND PORN" silliness began, and he had seen some unchanging faces who hung around the young country. _I always found that odd…_ He thought, lighting a new cigarette and finding his patch of sunlight, _Guess this makes a bit of sense, then…?_

-IB—AFJ—

_Yeah. They're nearly autonomous ya know? They each have their own version of my federal government and they're so different~ They just kinda of are~ They're good kids though, especially if they came from me! _

-AFJ—IB—

_Da. Obviously. Everything that comes from you is _perfect_, Amerika._

God, he hoped sarcasm was transferable through textual messaging…

-IB—AJF—

_Mmhmm~! . . . . . . but you won't tell right?_

-AFJ—IB—

_What merit would there be in divulging your secrets any longer, Comrade?_

-IB—AFJ—

That was a weird thing to say. He had thought he would demand to see little Alaska or try and steal him back or something. This was new.

_I dunno. Just for shits and giggles?_

-AFJ—IB—

_Now is the time to make a deal, da? No good will come to you if you refuse~~~_

Just a little threat~ Always the most effective~

-IB—AFJ—

He knew it. Once a commie, always a commie.

_Fuck off commie. I don't make deals with _you. _You leave them alone and I won't nuke your ass and kick you to kingdom come. :(_

-AFJ—IB—

_Now, _really_, Amerika~~~ So quick to dismiss our fresh START~~~?_

This was starting to get fun…~ "Kolkolkol…~~~"

-IB—AFJ—

_Look, I'm not even talking about that. If you fuck with my family, I _will_ kill you. I'll go along with that START because it's good for everyone, but you stay away from my family. You will never get to see any of them, especially at this rate._

Sent.

He didn't know why he added that last part. It just sounded like the right thing to say. He wondered a lot of things, putting his controllers on the table and going for a look around the house, mostly the second floor. He picked up things from the ground and made it so the messes weren't as bad. Generally tidying up. He wasn't sure what to think.

-AFJ—IB—

"Oh, this _is_ fun~!" Ivan said to himself, sitting up with another self satisfied chuckle, "Silly little Amerika~~~ Exposing a new weakness to me~? What a novel idea~ Let us see where this goes, da~?"

_Now now, Amerika~ Do not be so hasty in your decisions, da~? The future can be very unpredictable! My guess is that by this time next year, we will either be the best of friends or one of us will be at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean~~~ Would you care to make a bet~?_

"Americans are always so much fun to manipulate…~"

-IB—AFJ—

He was really confused. Or concerned. Concerned. Either way, it spelt Trouble with a capital T.

_What the hell are you talking about? Just quit it with the mind games and stay away from my kids and we won't have any problems, okay?_

-AFJ—IB—

_Oh, that is correct~ Amerika is having money troubles, da~? Guess it would not be too good to be making any bets right now! How silly of me! How embarrassing for you!_

Not that Ivan himself wasn't having money troubles, but he really just wanted to humiliate America! He went and flopped down on the big couch adjacent from the television and fireplace in his living room and pressed send. Ivan's new house was very small compared to the Soviet Union's old house, but it fit him and that was all he needed, right? He had some guest rooms on the third floor, but it was really not so spectacular. The attic was filled with memories, though not many as most were still in his old houses and he didn't like to visit there… Not anymore, that is. He shook his head, hoping to vanquish all of those sad thoughts. Why did they always pop up? Why did they always haunt him? Maybe if he drank enough, this time, they'd go away… Maybe it'd work this time… "…Probably not."

He wasn't so sure he wanted to annoy America right now…

-IB—AFJ—

He was still a major asshole, Alfred would have to give him that. _What a dick move…_

_Just leave me alone if you're gonna be a dick about it. :P_

-AFJ—IB—

Fine.

_Fine._

-IB—AFJ—

Great. Now he had to go and make _him_ feel like a dick. This was annoying.

…_.. Sorry. I just get protective of my kids. They mean the world to me, besides Arthur and my country, and I don't like threats towards them…_

His fingers hovered over the touch screen. The message was perfectly fine but it needed something more. Something else. But what?

…_.. Sorry. I just get protective of my kids. They mean the world to me, besides Arthur and my country, and I don't like threats towards them…. If you want you can come and meet them sometime._

Send.

-AFJ—IB—

Oh, well, this was interesting… He hadn't meant to make America feel guilty, and most certainly wasn't expecting this…

…_Really?_

He wasn't willing to believe the Capitalist Pig's words.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

-IB—AFJ—

_Well, yeah. If you want to. But only if I'm there. I need to protect them of course. But yeah, I don't see why not. One of them did come from you, so yeah. _

-AFJ—IB—

…_Why?_

Ivan smelled lies.

Lies and cigarette smoke.

-IB—AFJ—

_Honestly? I don't think it would be too bad of an idea. That, and Alaska's always askin' about you. Might be a good time to introduce y'all~ _

-AFJ—IB—

_But you and I hate each other. Well. Maybe we no longer _hate_ each other, but there is a mutual dislike. …But our bosses are trying to revive relations… But I am not sure how ready I am for that…_

Send.

Knock knock knock!

"Visitor?" Ivan wondered aloud, "Who would visit me, unless…?" Ivan _did_ have one friend, a certain island nation with quite the… interesting… personality. Not that he minded, of course, his and her countries barely had any interaction, which was maybe why the two were on such good terms. _Anyway, _Ivan thought as he reached the door, _Probably just a package of some sort, right…? _

Wrong! He knew who stood there when he had to actually look down to see the guest with her thick red hair and smiling face. "Privet, Erin…~" He said with a small smile as the Republic of Ireland wrapped her thin yet strong arms around his waist (It was the highest she could reach after all…).

"'Lo, love~ Y'a'righ'?" She looked up at him with smiling eyes and a smiling face. _She is so pretty…~_ Ivan thought, smiling back, because she really was. Her hair was thick and wasn't too curly, but was more wavy and a good shade of red (Not too orange, not too brown), her eyes were wide and a mossy emerald green and, despite her short stature, she really did have quite a nice body, if Ivan was not being too forward in thinking so. Yes, Ivan quiet enjoyed his little 'friend' and their nights and days together…~

"Well, are you not going to come in~?"

"Aye!"

-IB—AFJ—

_I don't _hate_ you. Maybe dislike you, but I don't hate you. Anyway~! You have to come~~! Alaska is _way_ excited to meet you~ and a little scared, but mostly excited~!_

Luckily, by the time Alfred had wandered up to his room, Arthur was _finally _online. He started off by listening to him rant about his new upstart, David Cameron. _Well, at least I get to talk to my hunny-bunch~~~_

-AFJ—IB—

Ivan heaved a sigh and uncapped his forgotten bottle of Vodka, sitting on the couch heavily.

"Wot's wrong, big guy~?" Erin questioned, snuggling closer and taking a drag on her cigarette (Which elicited a bright blush from Ivan).

"Amerika."

"Ahhh, wot's Al doin' now, boy-oh~?"

"He wishes to extend an invitation towards me, to visit his family."

"Well, that's nice o' 'im~ Yeh'll take advantage, I reckon?"

"I have not yet decided…" He said with a shrug, getting back off the couch, "Anyway, the Pierogi have finished boiling…" And with that he left to the kitchen. Silly, forgetful, distracted Ivan, leaving his phone unguarded around _Ireland_?

Well, the chance to meet whoever this was Al called his 'Family' was too good an opportunity for Ivan to pass up! Erin had to be the hero! Be diplomatic! …Or maybe she was just a little drunk. That was more likely, anyway…

_Da, da, sound good, da? I come. When I come? Sounds very lovely. Korosho!_

That sounded like Ivan. …Right?

-IB—AFJ—

He read it over twice.

And then twice more. Alfred thought about asking Iggy for his opinion but… they weren't on the best terms right? _Or was that Germany?_

He shrugged, _either way…_

_Great~! How about next week? Alaska is gonna bring his schoolwork though, just to warn you. And Iggy's gonna be here too~! It's gonna be fun~!_

He sent that with a smile. Sometimes it did get awful lonely in this big ol' house…

-AFJ—IB—

_Oh, great, I love that big limey cocksucker._

Oh, wait, that didn't sound like Ivan. Schyte.

"…On second thought, kin'a did~!"

And so she hit send.

-IB—AFJ—

That just made his blood boil and his stomach twist into angry, protective knots.

_HEY! YOU SHUT UP ABOUT MY ARTHUR! YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK. YOU. YOU WILL _NEVER_ GET TO SEE ALASKA! _**NEVER**_._

-AFJ—IB—

"Oops. I fecked it all up…" Said Erin with a pouty little face, the mole under her right eye getting scrunched up with the rest of her freckles. "Maybe I should just come clean…"

_Sorry, mate, Didn' mean it. Me bad, me bad. Don' blame Ivan for t'is, A'righ'?_

What did she have to lose, anyway…?

The answer was nothing.

-IB—AFJ—

He only had one answer for that.

_What? ?.?_

-AFJ—IB—

_Yeah, sorry, Al. =.3= On th'other hand… Hi! :.D_

"That was a stupid lookin' smiley face~ I'm hungry~ Ivvvaaan~~ Where're me Potato Pierogi~~?"

"Be patient, Erin, you must learn patience, da?" Came the response from the kitchen.

And so Erin flopped back onto the couch with her Guinness and cigarette and was forced to 'learn patience'. _I hate waitin'…_

-IB—AFJ—

_I'm still confused. Like waaaaaay confused. Who's this? And where's that asshole?_

Alfred was making dinner for one. Tony usually stayed holed up in the lab when he wasn't off playing video games or doing one of his weird experiments on the local livestock, one it was.

"_One is the loneliest number~ that you'll ever do~_" He sang to himself getting out a new thing of napkins.

Tonight it was a couple of those instant chicken potpies. _Yum~_ He did miss having the big family meals all together in the living room or in the dining room at the big table. Those were nice times. But now even little Hawaii and Alaska were busy running their own governments. It was cute but…

He shook his head. No point in thinking about boring stuff! He had a microwave to watch!

-AFJ—IB—

_I killed 'im 'cause he took too long with my feckin' dinner._

"An' that'll be th'reality if'n yeh don' hurry up, yeh t'ick feck! Mama wants some sugaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

_Da. _Thought Ivan, putting the two dinners onto plates, _She really is one of a kind…~_

-IB—AFJ—

_I'm still really confused. Who's this? Did you really kill him? Cuz that's not cool dude._

He ate slowly, watching the TV. _Jersey Shore really is something~_

-AFJ—IB—

_Hmm… Who's t'say, amirite?_

"Erin…" Said Ivan, after they began to eat their dinner, "Have you seen my phone? I cannot seem to locate it…"

"I denno!" She responded joyously, happily eating her delish dumplings. "It'll turn up, aye~?"

"da…" Chew chew chew.

-IB—AFJ—

He was putting dishes in the dishwasher, very specifically because he only cared about the order of two things: the linen closet on the second floor and the dishwasher. He got another text message.

_Ukraine? Just tell me for God's sake! :/_

-AFJ—IB—

_Alfred Feckin' Jones I am very disappointed in yeh fer not knowin' yer own 'Auntie'. ;.P_

"…Do you have my phone, Erin?"

". . . Naye…"

_Aye…_

-IB—AFJ—

_I HAVE AN AUNT? WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?_

He didn't have an aunt! He couldn't have! What kind of person would forget someone like that? And Alfred F Jones wasn't a forgetter!

-AFJ—IB—

_Yer sucha t'ick feck… Kemmon, I used t'take care o' yeh (When I wasn't, y'know, stone cold drunk) and me ex-brother is yer kinda pappy! Okay, s'I ain' yer REAL auntie, but that's wot the '' was fer… _

_-.3-_

"'Mericans can be so t'ick, yeh know~?"

"Chew with mouth closed, prasite…"

-IB—AFJ—

Alfred thought for a long time while he stared into the fridge, trying to get the Fridge Logic to kick in.

_Are you one of Iggy's Brother's?. . . . . . . . . . . OH WAIT! You're that Ireland person! :D I got it~!_

"WOO! Go Fridge Logic!"

"Shut the fuck up, Human Alfred."

"Oh. Hey Tony~ Do anything fun today?" He closed the fridge door, shivering a bit at the chill.

"No."

"Oh. Okay. You wanna watch a movie?"

"I have several samples of this 'peanut butter' in my fucking lab. Do you think I have the time to watch a goddamn movie?"

"Guess not." Alfred watched the little gray alien as he walked back to the lab door. "And don't stay up too late~!"

Alfred was once again alone.

-AFJ—IB—

_Ding ding ding! Brain cells that work! Claps fer yeh! So, yeah~ Don't take Ivan's chance t'meet part o' his back away~~ Please~~? Fer Aunty Erin~~? :.)_

"Send!" Erin bellowed as Ivan washed the dishes before she realized what she was doing, "Oh. Oops."

"So you do have my Cellular phone?" Ivan questioned, not looking up from the dishes.

"Only for a short time…"

"Do not try the cute face. I cannot even _see_ your face and I can tell you are making the cute face."

"Are yeh mad at me~?"

"Nyet."

"Good~" And she began to walk closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, pleased with the squeak it received. "'Cause I've been missin' yeh somet'in' _awful_…~"

"…~"

-IB—AFJ—

_Okay, okay~ he can come and meet Alaska. But make sure he's here, at my house, next week around 2 on Monday. Alaska's plane gets in at 3 and I need to go over the ground rules before that._

So. Erin was at the russki's house. But why? Were they dating? Probably. Alfred sat down and flipped on the TV. _Maybe I'll just leave that question for tomorrow…_

-AFJ—IB—

"Oh, is this your plan, then…~?"

"We're jes _friends_, love~"

"I know…~"

"Here's yer phone~~"

_J;lkhdsjkbhliuhwpuhcccccccccccp_

_-IB—AFJ—_

Alfred looked at the gibberish.

"Huh. They must have dropped it or something." He shrugged and finished his episode of _Family_ _Guy_.

-AFJ—IB—

_This is a collaboration of my friend and I. She acts in place of Ivan and a slew of other characters as I act as Alfred and a bunch of other characters._

_We hope you all like it a lot~_

_-VG4455_


	2. Chapter 2

"Well. That was a fun night…~"

He got his response as a quick nod and an even quicker flick of a lighter from his dear friend. "Always is fun, mate~ Always is~"

"Want I should make breakfast?"

"Oh, yeah, I am _famished_!"

And with a light chuckle and the introduction of pants into the equation, Ivan left the bedroom to go downstairs and cook some breakfast and check any e-mails on his phone. _Shto? I do not recall sending another message… ….Oh. Must have had the phone in my pocket…~_

_Terribly sorry, Amerika, that last message was a, what is the word?, butt dial._

-IB—AFJ—

Alfred was busy trimming the roses on the side garden so they would bloom when he flipped open his phone to check for messages. Reading it quickly with a quirked eyebrow, he typed back:

_Oh. That's cool. So are you and Erin, like, dating or something? And you're still coming next Friday, right?_

He got back to trimming the bushes as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. He flipped his baseball hat forwards and started wheelbarrow-ing all the cut parts to the compost pile. It was some new thing Cali wanted him to try. He shrugged and tossed another pile on top of the rotting plant stuff.

He then moved onto the other flowerbeds and got to work on the bulbs.

-AFJ—IB—

_Fufufufufu~ Nyet._

That was clear enough... right? Thank god that thick skulled American could not see him right now, because his cheeks were as red as the stripe on his flag.

-IB—AFJ—

_No to both? Or no to the dating? Or no to coming to see Alaska?_

Alfred continued turning over the soil. _Friends with benefits? Ivan was one weird dude…_

-AFJ—IB—

_Nyet to dating. Stupid Amerika. So drop subjects, da?_

When the toast was done toasting and the eggs were done cooking, Ivan moved the food to plates. He still was having not so much fun, because Alfred F. Jones was so… So… _American. _No other word would describe him and that may have been what grated on Ivan's nerves the most, or maybe… Maybe he envied that…? He shook his head, _Those are the thoughts we drink away, Ivan. You do not envy that _twerp_, nyet._

"Yeh made me food, love~?" Came Erin's call as she walked down the stairs, dressed, showered and feelin' fine and funky fresh.

"Da…"

"Jes a 'da'?"

"A short response for a short girl…~"

". . . Oh, now _that_ was a mistake, boy-oh…~" And with a jump and a pounce, she began her assault on his face.

-IB—AJF—

Well. Someone wasn't a morning person.

Alfred continued making his snack, cutting up a medley of fruit. He started humming that Wiggles song even.

He typed a quick response (_Just be here, next Friday at 2, okay?_) and got back to cutting slices of apples.

-AFJ—IB—

In the midst of much tickling and hair pulling, Ivan knew he had to get his message sent back…

_Da, amerrrrrrstika spoundse good`11_

Send.

"Oh, now look what you have made me send…" Ivan said, checking over the message while trying to fix his hair.

"Wot?" Responder Erin, looking over his shoulder and reading the message, "Tch. Wull. Yer th'one wot started it, aye?"

He shook his head, _This one will surely be the death of me…~_ and sent out another message.

_Da, Amerika, that sounds like a good plan. No need to tell me your address, as I already know where you live…~_

That was sure to keep his silly little mind in a tizzy for a while…~

-IB—AFJ—

_Dude. What's with all this crazy weird texting? And I would guess you do. It _is_ on my business cards… ;P_

"Ha! Can't scare me so easily!"

-AFJ—IB—

_Amerika never gave me a business card._

"Hah. Cannot escape me so easily."

-IB—AFJ—

_Fine. Big creeper much? Anyway, just be here. I need to make sure we go over some ground rules before the kid gets here._

-AFJ—IB—

"Tch."

_Who are you calling big? You are the one with the highest obesity level. Globally. …Unless you speak of _different_ kind of _big_…~?_

Always fun to bring up the Condom story, da…~?

Besides, he wasn't big. Just big boned…

-IB—AFJ—

Alfred groaned. _Not this bullshit again…_

_Not this bullshit again. Really? You're gonna bring this up? Whatever. I'm out if you're gonna do that._

Alfred left the phone on the counter and went to go answer a few emails.

_Suck on _that_, biznitch._

-AFJ—IB—

_Do svydanja, little Amerika~~~ I will see you on the next Friday~~~_

He smirked a little smirk and ate his toast and eggs with a bit more of a jump in his step.

_This is going to be fun, da…~?_

-IB—AFJ—

Alfred read the message and put the phone away, preferring to get started on cleaning. Years of military training would not be able to undo the way he folded the sheets on his bed, his obsessive compulsiveness when it came to the dishwasher or the linen closet on the second floor keep him busy, and then there was the terror.

Yes, there was a slight nagging, a constant, slight nagging, in the darkest reaches of his mind that he was under attack. The constant wear and tear on his body from the two 'wars' he was fighting. _If you could call it that._ That was what Alfred F Jones hated. Using your own citizens for fodder, underhanded techniques and suicide bombers. It made his stomach turn awful loops he couldn't escape. However, the paranoia and fear was no where _near_ Soviet levels. _That was horrible_.

But Alfred didn't like to think about that.

-AFJ—IB—

The next days passed quickly.

Alfred spent his time trying to get as much work as possible done. He went to a couple extra meetings even to save on the paper work. He spent his nights talking to Arthur and the kids that decided to bother him with their questions. He didn't ever mind getting to talk to his kids. They were his pride and joy. Next to his country and his boyfriend and the first family, they were all he really had. It was just too bad they didn't get to see each other that often or see their Dad.

Everything about them was special. Each one held a special place in his heart. Even if a couple had tried to leave him at one point, he still loved them deeply. And he tried not to bring it up as much as possible.

It was the morning of the day Russia was to arrive.

Alfred started off his day with a greeting from Iggy saying that his plane would be landing at his airport in about an hour. He got up and started cleaning his room, tossing the contents of the 'bachelor' lifestyle into a large black trash bag.

As he was carrying the bag to the garbage can, he called Gordon, the driver supplied by the US Government for his safety and protection that lived at the private airfield about 20 minutes west of his house and told him to expect Iggy's arrival and then Alaska's later, though he would be picked up at 3 pm.

Russia would have to find his own way to Alfred's house.

He made sure the West Guestroom had sheets and that there was space in his dresser just in case Iggy would let him maybe have him move in kinda. It was a weird thing to ask and Alfred always chickened out.

It never seemed like Iggy took him seriously. Heck, he couldn't even say he loved him. It put a damper on Alfred's spirits occasionally, but he didn't let that get him down.

He finished cleaning what had to be cleaned for the visitors and got showered and changed. As he ate a quick couple of power bars, he hopped in his little Audi and drove over to the supermarket to stock up on food. He went to the Dominick's in the town a little ways south

Once he came home and out all the groceries away and folded each plastic bag into a little knot and stored it away, he sat to wait.

Arthur arrived first.

"Hey babe~!" He kissed him, enveloping the smaller man in a hug. Arthur blushed violently and pushed him off.

"St-Stop that you damn git." He took his bags up to Alfred's room.

"Love you too sweetheart~!" he shouted after him, sneaking a few feet behind the Brit, planning to jump him once he had gotten all the kink's out upstairs. He snuck into the room and watched as Arthur fiddled with his toiletries at the sink. He crept up behind him and wrapped his arms around in a bear hug and rested his head on his shoulder. But he was not graced with a squeak or a splutter or anything.

"Alfred. I can see you in the mirror you dolt."

"Oh… no happy sex time then?"

He blushed again. "N-no."

Alfred shrugged. "Later then~" He tossed Arthur over his shoulder and started carrying him downstairs.

"Put me down!"

"Nope~ I'm guessing you haven't eaten all day, right?"

"…"

"Oh, I am _good_~" he said in a sing-song voice as he set Arthur on the counter by the sink. "Got a taste for anything in particular~?"

"I suppose a sandwich wouldn't be absolutely horrid right now."

"Okay~!" Alfred made him a sandwich with all the fixings, and while his back was turned to the Brit, he casually added: "Oh, and Russia's coming over too."

"_What?_"

"Yeah, I figured he should get to meet Alaska, I mean the kid did come from him."

"Alfred, that—that _thing_ is a sociopath!"

"Bu-"

"The man is _mental_! You can't possibly let him near the boy!"

"I can protect him just fine! Besides, Alaska is really excited to meet him. I can't tell him he isn't allowed to now."

Arthur was silent at that. "I thought your plan was to keep them a secret?"

"It kinda slipped out…" Alfred scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Don't worry sweetheart-" Arthur blushed again, looking at the floor. "—It's not like I'm gonna tell the world about them. I'll keep them safe no matter what." He moved closer to Arthur, lifting his head up gently to look into his startlingly beautiful green eyes. "And I'll protect you too~ because I love you~ don't worry about the Russki, he won't ruin our weekend~"

Arthur nodded just slightly and Alfred kissed him, long and slow, wrapping his arms around his smaller frame. Arthur twisted his fingers in the sun soaked blonde hair and pulled him closer. Sure, he couldn't ever say 'I love you' back to Alfred, but he would show it in other ways.

Alfred wished he could always have the Briton within an arm's length, always keep him close and always be able to hear that accent, but sadly, life would interrupt, Iggy would have to leave, or that damn doorbell would ring.

_Ding dong ding dong, ding ding ding dong._

-AFJ—IB—

The week seemed to drag on and on and on…

Meetings with France about zoos and with England about Olympics and Dealing with Georgia and with Belarus and the cutoff of his own baby sister's oil supply and the Koreas and peace keeping and paper work and flying and _ugh_.

But his mind was occupied with Friday at 2pm.

Meeting Alaska? _Alaska?_ The bit of him he always longed for the regained control of? Whom he had written folk songs about retrieving? Something about the situation smelled fishy and it wasn't just the Bering Strait. _Why would Amerika let _me_ see Alaskaya? Has he completely forgotten about our long and drawn out shouting matches on the subject?_ It just didn't sit right with Ivan… Maybe he should go armed…

And speaking on such, what was he to bring? What was he to wear? America had many famous fashion icons, right? He didn't want to go in something silly… So traditional was out… Of course, he didn't dress traditionally much anymore. During his Soviet years, tradition and culture were more or less stomped out, and there were many things he hadn't again taken up since 1991… Perhaps just some ordinary clothes? Pants, shirt, shoes… But what was the weather like? April, so it must be warm in America by then, warmer than Russia at any point…

And what to bring? Was he to stay the night, or was he expected to leave that same day? Perhaps he would pack a bag and leave it in his plane, that didn't seem too strange, right? Or maybe that was strange! His head swirled and twirled, he had to consume great amounts of liquor to calm it down and even then the thoughts bounced around, just slower like the defeated shamble of one of those Auschwitz prisoners… God, that was a terrible place… He didn't quite enjoy thinking back at that, but his mind always seemed to wander to the negative thoughts instead of the positives…

In the end, after finishing the last of his work and powering down for the weekend, bidding farewell to President Medvedev and Prime Minister Putin, he did pack a bag to leave in his plane. _Better to be secretly prepared than to appear silly and ill-prepared, da?_ This was also the reason he kept a revolver and his pipe on his person along with several bottles of Vodka and packs of cigarettes. Honestly, even Ivan was surprised that he could hide such things with such great skill, but he had his hiding spots…

Ivan powered up his plane and took off, preparing for the long and boring eleven hour flight from Moscow to Washington D.C.

_This smog grows thick…_ He commented to himself as he took off. _Hopefully it will not grow to be burdensome, da…? Like poor Yao-Yao…_

It was a long and boring flight with much thinking and smoking and coffee involved as he had not slept the previous night, too full of thoughts and mild panic for seeing his old arch nemesis, his current not-really-at-all-a-friend-but-not-exactly-an-enemy, and his little Alaskaya… He desperately wished he had his old 'entourage' of Comrades with him, they made him feel a bit more confident when dealing with people, but as long as he had his scarf to hide his past and his smile to hide his present, he could take on the world…

The airfield was a bit of a nuisance, giant suspicious looking Russian is always a favorite target for questions and his metal spine, the Trans-Siberian Railroad, never did help him much going through those scanners, but he did _finally_ get through, though not in the highest of spirits, at around 12.45 on Friday afternoon, and after hailing a cab and having a bit of trouble with the amount of American currency he possessed, he managed to make it about ¾ of the way to Alfred's before his money was no longer enough. _Well…_ He thought, _I cannot say I did not expect this, though maybe it should not be so hot here, da…?_ It really was quite a stark difference from back home in Moscow, so he rolled up his sleeves (Exposing a multitude of deep and shallow, light and dark scars alike.) and made his way to Alfred's with half an hour to go, which, luckily, was exactly as much time as his long legs needed.

Annoyed, hot, tired, he rang the doorbell at exactly 2.00 and received no reply.

_Well. This is perhaps an indicator of how this visit will go…?_

_Ding dong ding dong, ding ding ding dong._

-IB—AFJ—

_There you go. Chapter two. Enjoy._

_-VG4455_


	3. Chapter 3

An Answer to a few reviewers:

_Privet, friends! I'm the co-writer of this story, writing for Ivan~ We've gotten a few comments (Four, as I am typing this) and we have read and appreciated each and every one of them~ So, there were some questions asked and just some things we'd like to comment on, so, da, that is my job! _

_First off, thank you to everyone who appreciates Erin! She's kinda sorta my pride and joy and she can be a bit of a handful at times and can also be kind of dickish, but I do hope you will bare with us through the ups and downs of our little story line. Currently, it's April of 2010 (In the story, that is. it's February of 2011 in actuality…) Ummm, so yeah! This is a USUK story and a Russia/Ireland (RoEire…?) story so if you're not a fan of that, well, you don't _have_ to read our story, but we would very much enjoy it if you did…~ Ah, and in response to the first review we got…~ No, there is not anything that Ivan cannot do~ And then also you will get more~! Much more, da! But, yeah, and then, yeah. This isn't Russiamerica, sorry if that's disappointing, but they're just bros. …And not 'bros with benefits'… Just sayin'. I just can't really see them together. . Sorry~ A-and concerning their 'BFF' status, you'll have to wait a bit, da~? :D _

_And then… What else…? Oh, England Ireland? *clears throat* Yeah. Their, uhhh, their relations aren't good….. At all… So… Besides! Then what would Al and Ivan do? D: Oh! And lastly, Ivan smoking! Totes legit, broski, totes legit. The Russians smoke more than any other country's population, it's something like 64% of the population smokes. No joke! Maybe that number is hyperbolized BUT WHATEVS. Anyway, I'm open to answering any questions! Thanks for your kind words! _

_ALSO! We're not doing the little separations anymore, unless they're texting, so it's more unified, da? Thanks again! _

_Love, _

_the writers._

-AFJ—IB— -IB—AFJ-

Alfred opened the door with a sunny smile and a: "Hey commie~! Welcome to this half of the world~! You've got the West guestroom, I'll take you up there for your bag and stuff and then we can go over the ground rules~ did you walk here? You look warm. Oh! And Iggy's already here~" Alfred took a breath. He looked at Russia for a reaction.

Oh thank _god_ he had had those troubles with the metal detector and cab, otherwise his bag would still be an hour back in his plane… He had been a bit nervous, thinking it would look odd to see him with the satchel, but since America had said that he felt a bit more relaxed. But dear _lord_, that smile… It was… _Real_… _Why does Amerika deserve to be so happy? What gives him the right to be so happy and optimistic…_ So, he plastered on his own smile, though it was no more than a mask. He put it on many centuries ago and now it seemed more real to him than whatever his real smile looked like. He could barely remember what his _real_ smile looked like… "Privet, Amerika~ I am very much so looking forward to seeing my _son_~" Oooh, that should get his blood boiling…~

Alfred's smile froze. "_Your_ son?" He paused, his body tensed and ready to reach for the handgun always on his person, ready to defend. "He was _never_ your kid. He was part of your back. He only became a real boy once _I_ got him. He thinks of you like a… an uncle or something." Alfred shrugged, not really knowing what else to say. "Let's just get you settled in." Alfred turned and started leading him upstairs.

Such a house… Like one an actual family lived in, how strange. The last thing time Ivan had lived in such a house was when he and his sisters had been the Kievan Rus', and that wasn't exactly the best time… What with _Mongolia_... Oh god, that man was a _monster_, and even though he had no power, no money, no nothing anymore, he could still make a shiver go up the length of Ivan's spine as it was at the present. He really hoped Alfred hadn't noticed that. _That is not a conversation I wish yet to have…_ He thought as he followed him up the stairs, twisting the edge of his scarf between his fingers. "Well, regardless, Amerika. He was once a part of me, so I do believe that makes him more related to I than to you, da~?" That wasn't as fun a response as he had hoped to achieve, but he would get that reaction before he left, that he was sure of!

Alfred felt the growl building up in the back of his throat, "Just drop it. _Got it?_"

"Alright~ Alright~ Alaskaya is _yours_, no relation to me anymore, I understand…" _Not like I would actually try to take Alaskaya back anymore… _Ivan thought with a shrug, _That is something Soviet Russia would do, I am the Russian Federation now! I _killed_ him._

Sunny smile returned! "Great~ and don't you forget it!" Alfred led him down a hall of doors, each one covered in posters, or pictures, or names of states burnt into the wood in clever designs.

_So there really are fifty states…_ Ivan thought, looking at all the doors. He hoped a bit he could meet the others, but knew that was probably out of the question, da?

He finally reached the West guestroom and threw open the door. "Here we go." It was a nice room, done in the style of western architecture and such, but _tastefully_, as New Mexico would say. Nice queen sized bed, small adjoining bathroom, some bookshelves devoted to things related to the west. The room's main window, complete with seat, even faced towards the west! It was a good room for a chilly guest. _Heh. Cold Russia is cold~_

"This is very nice room, Amerika~ I look forward to staying, da~?" May as well appear to act civilly, right? Though, Ivan had to admit, he was feeling very intrusive being here… "So what rules have we to go over, da~?" _So I know which to break…~_

"Great~!" Alfred did like entertaining, after all, 70% of the country was involved in the service industry. "First off, tone down the violence bit. He may _be_ around sixty years old, but he's got the mind of an eight year old, an adorably cute eight year old~" Alfred gushed. He was always proud of his kids. "Second, we just got him off this bad habit of his, so no blood or nothin' near him. Third, he still has to do his homework and his bedtime is ten. He needs to make sure he eats his veggies and that he doesn't spend the whole day running around outside. Fourth, don't touch Mr. Wolfie." He thought for a moment. "And I think… that's it~" He grinned. "Got it~?"

'_Bad habit'…?_ "Da, Amerika, I understand, but… 'bad habit'? Please to be elaborating, da?" To mention a bad habit that limits bloodshed…? What could it be?

"Weeeeeeeeell," Alfred started, stretching the word for time. "For a while, he would feel the urge to take a bath in blood every so often. Probably got it from you, not that I'm pointing fingers, but we've got it all cleared up now~" He put his hands in his pockets and looked up at Russia. "Just don't have like a gaping wound or nothing. Kid has a nose like a bloodhound. 'Course, that's probably from Star and Moon." Alfred got a thoughtful look on his face.

"Well, as long as we have no _problems_, Amerika~" Da, a tiny threat never hurt anyone~! "We will not have to worry about that, da~?" He smiled his frozen smile down at the shorter nation with a hint of malice. _Blaming _me_ for his 'habit'? I have never even _met_ the boy before… I should bring that up._ "Also, _Amerika_, I have never even met Alaskaya before, how could it be my fault? As you said, he was only a 'real boy' once he met you, just a hunk of flesh when I had him…" That was still a bit of a painful memory, though, and Ivan wasn't so sure he liked to discuss it at the present…

"Fine, fine. It ain't your fault." Alfred looked slightly put out. "Now c'mon. He'll be gettin' here soon." His voice started slipping into a light southern drawl, the kind he used when he was slowly getting angrier and ornery. Or when he was sweet-talking Arthur on the phone. But it was most definitely the first option.

Ivan shrugged, a bit smug having successfully annoyed the blonde. It was always such fun! "So, I drop bag in here, da~?" Ivan didn't wait for an answer, why should he? He was _Russia_ and even though he was _technically_ 'dying' (At least according to those analysts in China, but what did they know about him? He and Yao weren't necessarily friends after the Sino Soviet… fallout…), he wanted to retain his power and keep his weaknesses under wraps for as long as he could. He threw the duffel onto the bed and smiled right back down at Al. Such a 'friendly' face…~

Alfred nodded and started walking back downstairs, refusing to look at that smile.

"Ehh~? Did I upset you, Amerika~?" That childish voice and sweet smile he could slip on like a glove, it was such a helpful skill to have…~ "It was surely not my intenti—" Ohohoho, that smile froze faster than a tourist in the Urals. Unruly hair, caterpillar eyebrows, stuffy to little fashion sense… "_England._"

"_Russia_." Arthur replied just as icily.

"C'mon guys. Try to be civil, one planet, we all gotta live on it together~" Alfred opened his fridge and plucked a beer from the shelf, unscrewed it and took a long swig. "Alaska's gonna be here any min—"

"DADDY~!" A small blond blur came streaking into the room and jumping on Alfred, who laughed and caught the child. "Dad! I got to take Miss Sarah's plane~! And she gave me more of her cookies and she told me my pictures were really really good~!" He was around eight years old, with hair a shade blonder than Ivan's, a hair curl much like Canada's and eyes startlingly blue. The clear, bright color, but not as strong as Alfred's own baby blues. "Hey Mr. Arthur~! When are you and Dad gonna get hitched~?" Arthur choked on his tea, face flushing a red color. "I learned that word in school today~"

"Simmer down now kid~" Alfred said with a huge grin. _Kids~ they're just so damn cute~ _ "I've got someone here to meet you~"

"Mr. Russia~?"

"Yep~" Alfred turned so that Alaska was facing Ivan and set him on the ground. Alaska was just less than five feet and built for running and jumping through the wilderness, unlike Ivan's bulkier frame.

Alaska walked forward and held out a hand for a fist bump.

"Hi, Mr. Russia~! What up~?"

So, this was Alaska? This tiny little thing? And why did he look so like Comrade Matvey, if he was once part of Ivan…? And what was he holding out his fist like that for? Very strange… Maybe… Maybe he wanted to punch him, but could not reach…? He was very small…

"Privet, Alaskaya…" Ivan was supremely confused…

"That's a silly way to say my name~" Alaska laughed. "Am I gonna be as big as you one day? I hope I can~ Dad says I'm gonna be a hero like him one day~! Fist bump?" He shook his little fist to emphasize how Ivan was leaving him hanging.

"O-oh… 'Fist bump'…?" That was a simple enough task, da? He made his bear paw of a hand into a fist and lightly bumped it against the state's. "That is the correct way to 'fist bump', da? And… Silly way to say… But you are Alaskaya…?" This was a lot to take in for poor Ivan… Yes, the administration was trying to 'modernize' Russia, but if this meeting was any indication of how they were doing… Well…

"Yep~! You sure talk funny~ and my name is Alas_ka_! Not Alaskaya~ silly Mr. Russia~" Alfred had moved to stand next to Arthur and was holding his hand, watching with pride.

"You're really tall~ Hawaii would like you, she likes sitting on taller people cuz she's so short~" Alaska took Ivan's hand in his small one and started pulling him towards the stairs. "C'mon mister~! I wanna show you my room~!" his grip was strong and he was half dragging Ivan across the polished wood floors from his inherited strength.

What an odd sensation, being dragged along by someone who was even shorter than _Erin_ was… But, my god, this kid was cute… Why did he have to have such a soft spot for kids? All those Czarevich's and Grand Duchesses through the years probably… And that of course made… _'you know what'_… even harder. But he was not going to think about that. He always did, though, he knew it was inevitable. …What was he doing again? Ivan was tired… _Oh right… Alaskaya. What had he said? Something about another state and me talking funny… Oh, but we are going somewhere, da?_ Words and responses dragged themselves to the surface of Ivan's sleep deprived head. "Da, Alaskaya? Well, if you came to Russia, you would sound funny to them, too…~"

"I wouldn't ever be in Russia. Dad says we can't ever leave the country cause people'll try and steal us." Alaska looked a little sad after that. But then he perked up. "But that's okay~! Cause now I have you, Grandpa~!" He froze and turned to look up at Russia, nervous.

Ivan froze as well. '_Grandpa_'? He glanced down at Alaska carefully. _This is new… How am I supposed to… react…?_

Alaska looked up at him worriedly. He really did want a Grandpa. It was kinda boring with just Dad and Arthur and Uncle Matt.

"S-Sorry. I d-didn't m-me-mean it. I ju-ju-just really wa-wanted a G-Grandpa…" Alaska looked at the carpet floor in front of Nevada's room and started counting the beer stains that peeked out from under the doorframe.

_One two three four five six seven eight nine…_ Only nine cracks in the wall just to the left of Alaska's head? _Would probably think I was a loony, da, if he knew of my counting…_ Ivan counted to get his worries down, it may have been a little OCD, but who wouldn't be a bit OCD after the life he's had? Control was nice, control over numbers, that was something that wouldn't change, and yet would always be changing. But this was more important than some cracks. This he wanted to get to the bottom of, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. "De-dedushka…?" Ivan looked down at the strangely familiar little boy. _Why would someone _want _to be related or connected to me…?_

"Dedushka?" The world felt unfamiliar in Alaska's mouth. He shook his head, "No, I was w-wondering if you wanted to be my Grandpa…" He blushed again, but looked into Russia's eyes determined to expand his family. "Please~"

"Nyet Dedushka, but da Grandpa…? Dedushka Grandpa…. Is no difference. Da? Dedushka is Russian word for G-grandfather…" He was blushing fairly hard now. For years, it had just been him and before then only his Union was his 'family', and before _that_ he had weakened relations with his sisters (Luckily, relations had again began to improve! But he had never stopped loving his two dear sisters, how could he? Even if Natalia scared him out of his wits and he scared Katyusha out of hers…), and before then he had been with Mongolia and only before then had he had a proper family with his two sisters. That was the last time he was really, truly happy… Just the three of them against the world. Or not even against the world, who cared about the rest of the world? That didn't come until later…

Regardless… A grandchild? How peculiar… But the way that Alaska looked at him with his big eyes and his tiny build… Well, it would be impossible to refuse, da? 

"…Da."

Alaska's face glowed and his watermelon smile almost reached his ears, showing off where a canine tooth had fallen out recently. He jumped up and hugged Russia tightly, extremely happy to say the least. "Thank you~~~~~~~~!"

Ivan's blush spread to the rest of the his face with the soft little child's embrace. What had he just agreed to? 'Family'? This would… this would take some getting used to… But… Family again, even small, seemed… nice…

"You are welcome, Alaskaya…~!" And he returned the hug with gusto.

Alaska giggled and wiggled around. "C'mon~! I wanna show you my room~!"

Ivan giggled as well, gleeful as a young child, and released the small boy. _So, this is what this trip to Amerika has come to, hmm~?_

He pulled Ivan down the hallway stopping a room with a picture of a slightly younger Alaska amongst a pack of wolves.

"That's my pack~" he opened the door, bringing Ivan inside.

The ceiling was covered in constellations across a deep, dark sky and the walls were painted in a panoramic view of the sight from a small house. Model planes and puzzles of wolves were in frames and across the shelves. His bed was a midnight blue with the Alaskan flag across it. The frame looked as if it was carved from ice. All across the dressers were pictures with his friends from school, pictures of his many first days at school, pictures with Alfred and dozens of other states. The desk was covered in drawings and a half built model of Sputnik. Tacked up on the corkboard of the desk were designs and pictures of wolves, done skillfully but with an unsteady hand. Some of the drawers were leaking clothes and some were actually closed, but one thing remained: the room was entirely Alaska.

Ivan giggled slightly as he walked slowly around the room, he could definitely determine one thing: This kid was raised by none other than the famous Alfred F. Jones. The sheer American individuality was enough to choke any foreigner within minutes of entrance. Everything seemed so personalized, like every bit had been built and designed specifically for Little Alaska. _I would not be surprised if that were so... _Ivan thought as he perused the shelves and gazed into the smiling faces of children. _Why do these children look so much happier than those I have known…?_

"Do you like it?" Alaska rocked back and forth on his feet, hoping he had made his new Grandpa proud.

"Da~ Is a lovely room, Alaskaya…~" He smiled his sad smile down at the small boy, "We should go find Amerika~ Da~?"

"Yep~!" Alaska grabbed his hand and started pulling him out. Alaska was beyond happy and excited. He was over the moon.

Ivan followed along after his newly-adopted 'grandson', back out the door down the hall and down the stairs. _I wonder how Amerika will react…~?_

"And how was the tour~?" Alfred asked as his kid and Russia came down the stairs, setting a plate of animal crackers and a juice box down for Alaska.

"Awesomely~!" Arthur tsk-ed at the improper use of the English language but said nothing, sipping his tea. "Grandpa says it's real cool~!"

"Grandpa?" Arthur looked up as well.

"Hmm?"

"Oh yeah," Alaska said, sitting on a chair at the island. "I really wanted a Grandpa cuz I don't have one and I asked Grandpa Ivan if he could be my Grandpa because I was a part of him way back in the day and he said yes." Alaska shifted nervously. "That's okay, r-right?"

Alfred thought for a moment before saying: "Sure thing, kid~ now eat your snack~" Arthur shot a look to Alfred, which he obviously missed.

"Thanks Dad~!" Alaska started munching happily on the cookies, making sure to eat all the elephants first because he didn't like elephants.

Well, even if Alfred had missed that look, Ivan surely had not. He caught sight of those caterpillar eyebrows all furrowed and smirked a little smirk. Even if it had not gotten much of any response from the American, the Brit's had more than made up for it.

"Shto~? England~? Are you displeased with the outcome~?" He smiled his dangerous smile down at the smaller man, making him feel even smaller.

But he was being _friendly_~ Da~?

Arthur did not like Russia one bit. Aside from encouraging other nations to distance themselves from the arctic giant, he could do little to halt his 'progress'. But now he had a chance. He glared at Russia, and spoke in a clipped tone.

"Yes. The boy knows nothing about your 'past' 'exploits'." His tone was scathing and dripping with venom. Alaska looked up fearfully and Alfred looked back and forth the two of them.

"Well, England, would you care to illuminate the poor boy as to my history?" Ivan retorted, glaring at England with a smile colder than ice. "I am sure he would love to hear, and since we all know how premium you are with children, how _delicate_ and _kind_ you are, I am sure you could explain it much better than I. After all, then whenever he looks are you with those big eyes, you can be comforted knowing that you did not add to my 'exploits' by taking away the little state's innocence~~~" His smile never wavered, his eyes never wandered… Ivan did not like this man one bit.

Arthur froze, the icy grip of guilt and regret wrapping around him. He had absolutely no witty retort, he felt his face burning up again, but not in the same way that it did when Alfred held his hand. Not in the same way as when Alfred told him he loved him. No, all Arthur felt was crushing guilt of the many 'children' that left him. He kept his outward appearance strong.

"Russia, quit it. Leave him alone." Alfred stood behind Arthur, crossing his arms and looking at Russia warningly. "Or I'm gonna kick your ass." Alaska watched them all, slightly horrified. He rarely saw his Dad this mad. _At least, not with anyone like him… just those people that hurt New York and Pennsylvania…_

Alfred felt all his strength coiling within, all the strength of being _the_ superpower coming to arms. Of course, with the recession, it was not exactly as much as before, but it was still the most out of everyone.

Ivan switched his icy gaze instead to the spectacled blonde and held for a few moments before breaking into a big childish grin.

"Alright~ I understand, Amerika~" He said with a shrug, looking down at the small state with a warm smile. "You see, Alaskaya… Mr. England and I are not so good of friends~ At all~ He was just being silly, you have nothing to be scared of, da~? Just grownups being silly~" He ruffled the states hair, hiding how much his own words and Arthur's words had hurt him, as well. He had lost everyone. _Everyone _he had _ever_ cared about. Gone. Just gone. He had lost his sisters when he was taken away by the Golden Horde, he had lost all of his imperial rulers, he had lost Catherine The Great, lost the Romanov children (Thinking of them still sent a throb of pain through his body), lost _everyone_ in the Soviet Union and that one really, _really_ hurt. They had left him, one by one his beautiful dream of a Communist future, everyone happy, everyone together, but _nyet_. Everyone left, and there were quite a few of them to leave… So many left him in such a short amount of time, one after another. And then he started to fall apart, and everything went downhill. Sure, he had gotten _some_ 'friends' back, but they were not real friends. Definitely not. So when they said those words… Well, it was difficult to keep that face up, to say the least. He could feel the corners twitching, he really had to get out of there. Had to keep looking strong.

The tension in the room broke. Arthur turned his focus back to his tea; Alfred stopped looking like he was going to cut a bitch and Alaska's toothy grin returned.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Look after the kid, I gotta talk to Russia alone." Alfred made the 'follow me' head jerk and walked out onto the back porch. Arthur scooted to sit next to Alaska.

"Mr. Arthur~ look~ this rhino doesn't have a head anymore~!"

"Why yes," Arthur chuckled, skillfully wiping the corner of his left eye without making it look obvious. "It would be quite hard to find a hat for him now?" 

"Mmhmm~!" And on they continued their chatter. Alfred waited.

_Oh, now I am in trouble…_ Well, Ivan didn't regret his words for a second. _That is a lie, Ivan…_ He thought to himself as he followed Alfred out onto the porch. _You regret each of those words; you know they were insensitive no matter how much you _detest _that thick browed loon… But, you could not stop yourself, could you? _Nyet. _You could not. _He stopped in front of the shorter man and waited for him to say whatever it was that he had to yell at him for. _God, I want a smoke…_

"Look, Ivan, I don't know what your problem is, maybe you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, but you can't be that threatening in front of a kid, especially if you're his grandpa now." Alfred sighed, running his hands through his sun drenched hair and turning to look out across the fields and the lake and the gardens. "I know we're not the best of friends but can you please just get along with Iggy and me for the next couple of days, okay?" He put his forearm against the wooden beam that held up this section of the wraparound porch and leaned against it. "Please?"

There was a few long moment of silence. Had he just called him by his human name? Ivan did not know precisely what to think… He certainly did not feel they were at that level yet, nyet, he _knew_ they were not there yet. He had even had a retort planned, emphasizing how it was not he who had instigated this little situation, how he had merely asked England if he saw something wrong with Alaska referring to him as his grandfather and that it was England, not he, who had started this whole debacle. But Ivan couldn't really remember those words anymore… He couldn't really remember any words. But he could feel the blush that spread across his pale face, try as he may to keep it under control.

Alfred just watched the birds float across on the warm, soon-to-be-summer air.

"I know it was Iggy who started it but c'mon. He was just trying to look out for the kid. He won't do it again. I'll ask him not to. But please, can you promise me that you'll try?" Alfred turned around and faced Russia, looking tired and war worn. He no longer had his baby fat and his eyes were bagged and a little red from all the all-nighters of work he pulled recently. But that smile was still there. The sunny, happy-go-lucky upturn of his mouth never left.

Alfred's face made him feel sad, for it was much too familiar. It was his face. War-torn, sleep-deprived, over-worked… Nothing good ever had a hyphen in it, or at least very infrequently… He may not have always liked the much younger man, still may have hated him from time to time, but he certainly didn't wish the same fate on America as he himself had been dealt…Of course he was sure he looked no better, Ivan couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a decent meal or a good night's sleep let alone a break from work longer than the weekends… Non-stop catch up since the nineties had most definitely taken its toll on the once-superpower (_Ahh, another prime example of the dreaded hyphen._). But America had said something. He had called him Ivan—And another blush crept over his face without his permission—but he had said something else, too… 'Can you promise me you'll try', 'look out for the kid', 'Iggy who started it'… Oh, he must have been referring to their conversation, then… It was about civility, nyet? He could hold his tongue, just for the weekend. …He hoped.

"Da, Amerika. I can be civil if you and England can be. For Alaskaya's sake, da?"

Alfred grin grew.

"Thanks buddy~" he clapped him on the shoulder. "I really appreciate it~ now~! I'm gonna get started on dinner, you like steak, right~?" He was happy they could work at least something out. _After all, heroes are nice to everyone~! _

Alfred really couldn't hate everyone for forever. He was friends with Kiku and Germany and Italy still, Hell, his relationship with Arthur should indicate at least that much.

_Maybe now's the time to be friends again…~? For real~_

"Sure, Amerika…~" What else was there to say? His hopes were not high because there was no real point in raising the hopes. Even today, no matter how hard Ivan tried he could not regain the friends he had lost. Even England, who he had been such good friends and comrades with in both of the world wars, seemed to want to ruin any chance he had of regaining any friends. His old comrades from the CCCP either feared or resented him and pretty much all of Asia and Europe only used him as some sort of gas whore. He could threaten to cut them off (Which he unfortunately actually had to do to _both_ of his sisters…) but that wouldn't make friends. That would make enemies. There was really no one for him… His relations had begun to improve with France fairly quickly after the Union fell, but he could see the fear in his eyes. He could smell it off of him as strong as he could smell the wine on his breath or the rosy smell of his cologne. And Alfred…? Well, they were trying. Their countries were trying, at least, with the new START treaty and their help to one another. But things had fallen apart a bit back around the Beijing Olympics, when Russia declared war on Georgia… All those sad thoughts aside, maybe now was as good a time as any to restart their 'friendship'…

What did he have to lose, right?

-AFJ—IB—

_Well, there's chapter three~! Sorry it took so long, my other half was dealing with evil internet doom so this had to be done the old fashioned way. :P_

_Anyway, we hope you enjoy~!_

_-VG4455_


	4. Chapter 4

_This is just a general note. _

_This story is _NOT_ RussiaXAmerica. If you look on the site, I listed it under Humor and Drama, not romance. While the story is about Ivan and Alfred, it is only about their progressing relationship to fit with the times. Really. _

_As to the rest of the reviews, that was just a joke. Not the actual basis. The Vikings discovered America first. In our fanon, Native America was the mother to Alfred, Matt and Mexico. Therefore, he existed before the British arrived._

_Erin is also the creation of the other author. Her original name was Molly but was later changed to Erin as _our_ texting evolved. Yes, this originally is a yearlong texting RP between the two of us. Therefore, we have a year's worth of texting and stories to tell. I'll leave the other author to tell you more about why Ireland is a girl here: _

_('Sup! I'm the other one again! Yeah, I dunno, there's no Ireland and I really like Ireland and I'm Irish and the relations between Russia and Ireland really do exist! They're totes bros! But, yeah~ I like her and stuff and she's good for poor old Ivan and adds a female to a predominately male cast. So. Yeah~ Oh right! Why she's a girl…? Well, there's no official Ireland, is there? And Hetalia needs more girls, too, I suppose… And, as I said, this story needs a girl, too, so why not give Ivan one? I dunno, I love Artie and Al together and I'm totally all for rights, but I can just see Ivan with a girl more than a guy, so yeah~)(Actually, there is. Just a note Di~)(Hmm… Yes, yes, I see that now… Well, there's still genderbent Hetalia! And I made Erin before the official came out! And to those who says she talks funny… Well, have you ever met someone from Ireland? When they first come over and when they still live out there, they're accents are real thick~)_

_Sorry for the mixup._

_-AFJ—IB—_

Dinner at Alfred's was… different… to say the least. They ate at an actual table with actual silverware, sitting in actual chairs and eating an _actual normal dinner._ This was something Ivan had not experienced in a long time, longer than he would care to admit. Sure, there had been dates and special events and the like but those didn't exactly count under the same category. This was a family dinner and it was… Sort of delicious. Ivan could not recall the last time that he had eaten so well, of course he only ate what was on his plate because taking more would be impolite and was unnecessary for his survival and he was not about to show weakness in front of America and England… Or even this little state! What was he talking about, even? Ivan had spaced out at least ten minutes ago, smiling down at the little boy, seemingly paying attention, but he didn't hear a word he said. His mind had traveled off on some strange tangent that started with the State himself, then traveled to Alfred's claiming of the territory, then to steaks, then cows, then milk, then his sister Ukraine, then the actual country of Ukraine, then to North Caucasus, then to Georgia, then back to states, then, in a full circle, right back to the little boy known as Alaska. What _was_ he talking about…?

"And so then in my dream, I was—"

"Hold on a second, kid~ Russia, you want anymore? I made extra~" Al held up the large bowl of mashed potatoes easily. Arthur was seated to his right and sipping the wine he had brought out, some light red Zin he had gotten from Cali that went well with the meat. Thankfully, he knew when Arthur's limit was and was watching the glass out of the corner of his eye. Dinner was going good so far, though Russia wasn't eating as much as he had expected. Arthur didn't talk much, mostly out of fear that Russia would say something else mean that would send Alfred packing. Not that Alfred would leave him. He loved him.

"Sorry, Amerika, what was that~? Oh! Nyet, I am fine, thank you~" Nothing too bad had happened yet, but if Ivan knew one thing it was that nothing was forever. Not love, not friendships, not stability, and certainly not good days. But he didn't let this bother him, he had his Vodka and he was (Half) listening to a fairly interesting young boy prattle on about god-knows-what. So, what did he have to complain about? Well, certainly he _could_ complain about also being stuck with Alfred and Arthur, and at least Arthur was keeping his mouth shut. It was just something about that voice… the tone, perhaps? Yes, that must be it. Always so superior, always so pompous, so… There was no other word for it. So _British_… Yes, so British, so proper, so high above the worthless and barbaric Russian. What happened to their friendship? Their alliance during both the world wars, were they not friends? And now… Now Arthur seemed to really hate him. And not just England the country hating Russia the country, Arthur the person hating Ivan the person… But, he didn't want to think about that.

"Oh. Okay~" He set down the bowl and turned back to looking at Arthur. Finally, he got fed up with watching him stare at Alaska, who was now talking about fighting the Cap'n in his dream about cereal, and leaned over, whispering in his ear.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Arthur blushed as he always did whenever Alfred whispered in his ear.

"N-Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing."

"Belt up. I have nothing more to say." And with that, he downed the whole rest of the glass; blush staying in his cheeks as the sweet bliss of alcohol hit his veins.

Alfred sat back up in his seat, watching, as Alaska grew sleepier by the end of his story.

"Do you ever have any weird dreams Grandpa~?"

"Very many, Alaskaya…~ Whenever I sleep, it feels…~" Ivan leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over chest and looking out the window, eyes lost in a far off stare as he remembered his dream from his last sleep. He was back in Stalingr—No, it was Volgograd now, not Stalingrad—either way, he was back there, skin frozen and tight, his appendages creaked with each move both from the constant barrage of attacks and from the blood that covered him, completely dried and frozen from the harsh conditions. Ivan was miserable, but his smile stayed. His smile always stayed. It stayed as he walked through the carnage, the bodies of his comrades and his enemies… He walked for ages, it seemed, everyone on the battle field seemingly frozen in time. Finally, he had reached something that looked safe, familiar… It had been the lookout tower of the famous sniper Vassili Zaitsev, but when he shouted up he didn't see a familiar friendly face, but instead saw another familiar face. A 'heroic' face, one might say. But it was all wrong. Pale, gaunt, covered in nearly as much blood as he himself and toting around a huge… Well, he still wasn't sure what it was, no matter how many times he tried to figure it out. It was large, it was heavy, and it was sharp. And that was all Ivan needed to know before it fell on his head, followed shortly after by the blonde American. But, when he started talking, it wasn't English and it certainly wasn't Alfred's voice. But it was a voice he knew well. It was his own voice, like he was speaking to himself through Alfred. The small blonde kept his happy-go-lucky smile on his face as he sat on his big whatever on Ivan's chest (Perhaps it was a duffel bag of some sort…?). He was telling himself, Ivan, not to worry. That it would all be over soon. Then that thrice damned alarm clock rang, just as he was about to gather more information from himself/Alfred. He woke confused and scared, went to work, seemed to be an ordinary day… And then he got that message from Alfred. Ivan was not sure what to think.

"Da, Alaskaya, I have strange dreams…~ But they are nothing more than silly imaginings, not like they could ever happen, da~?"

"Yeah~ the Cap'n's just a cartoon character~~" he yawned and leaned back in his chair.

Alfred got up, starting to clear plates. "I've got this guys~" He started washing plates, making sure to snatch Arthur's wine glass and re-cork the bottle. Arthur glared at him, but soon fell content to twiddle his thumbs in silence.

Alfred sighed, washing the dishes with a practiced ease. Normally dinner wasn't so tense. _Ever. _Even when there were other people over or when Obama came to visit. There were always smiles around and laughter and great conversation. But all Russia did was stare at Alaska. And Arthur was still upset about earlier. _It's understandable considering his past with people leaving him all the time…_

"So!" Alfred started from his spot in front of the sink. "You and Erin have a thing~?" Arthur bristled at that, hands clenched and white with unreleased fury. His brow was furrowed and upset and very much like two large carnivorous caterpillars. Alfred didn't notice.

A brief, childish smile broke out over Ivan's face, whether it was from the look that the Brit wore or from the mention of a certain short ginger, Ivan couldn't (Or maybe more, wouldn't…) tell. But that face was quickly stored away, to be replaced by his classic archaic smile as he formulated his answer. Did they have a thing? I suppose you could call it that, but she seemed scared of him at times and they had very nearly fallen out of touch completely in the Soviet Era… But, he definitely cared for her. It was complicated and he was not about to define it as anything. _But maybe someday, we can have something special… More than merely physical…_ Ivan was not very good at the emotional part of relationships, emotions got in the way. Emotions were messy and difficult. But he still had them… He had a heart, even if everyone saw him as a monster…

"Nyet, Amerika~ There is no 'thing' to speak of~"

"Really?" He looked over at him. "Nothing? Damn, we gotta get you laid~" he laughed. Arthur's smile was wan.

Alaska was half asleep already and the sun had set a while ago. It was time for Alfred and Arthur to get to return to their room. Arthur just wanted Alfred to sweep him off his feet and make him forget about Russia. He didn't want his weekend to be ruined.

It was hard to say what was right about the world now. Everything felt like it was on some sort of tilt with a medley of colors sliding about as the ride when round and round and round. But one thing stayed.

Alfred was always there, no matter how fast it turned or how blurred the colors went or how sick he felt to his stomach. He could count on Alfred at anytime to be there for him. _Solely for him_. It both terrified and exhilarated him. Arthur knew the ache in his heart was for Alfred alone but he couldn't say it out loud. Couldn't even initiate a simple kiss. He was too frightened of the potential outcome.

"Does Alfred sleep with all of his friends~?" Ivan asked, head cocked to the side. He was trying so hard to keep that blush out of his face, if he were back home, he could blame a pink tint on the weather, but it was so warm here so that would never work.

Never the less, Ivan's anxiety level had been steadily rising as the night went on, and now that he was being questioned on his relationships…? Well, it certainly wasn't helping anything. Ivan wanted to hide away in the room provided, perhaps try and sleep or maybe take a walk around the grounds while the rest slept. Just something to clear his mind and think over his day, think over his relationships with others, think over his life and what he had left of it… Perhaps now would be a good time to restart friendly relations, he missed having someone he could talk to and Alfred (usually) was a generally nice boy… But, he had to think about that. Friends were a big decision and commitment; sometimes he thought he would really benefit more to continue to survive without them, than to live with them. _Or even one…_

Alfred blushed profusely. "N-No! Just Arthur~ but he's more like my best friend and my boyfriend…~ But yeah, only Arthur. What do you mean by that?" He cleared his throat like he was trying to clear the air of the previous awkwardness. Arthur's heart melted a bit at the edges and cracked a little more in the center at his words.

Ivan shrugged, "No reason, really. Merely curious as to why you would assume that." Not that it is not true, but the insinuation! Well, that was just impolite. Ivan rested his chin in his palm and observed Alfred from across the room. His face may have seemed tired and ill, but his eyes were sharp and alert. He was ready for anything the other two nations may dish out.

Alaska was dead asleep in his chair, little curl bouncing with his breaths.

Alfred took note. "Hey, Russia, can you take the kid up to bed~? And Artie, can you help me with the dishes~?" Arthur nodded and went to go stand next to Alfred, drying the dishes he washed. Focusing only on that.

"Y-you want _me_ to…?" Ivan was honored! Not just to be trusted with this precious little child, but that _Alfred F. Jones _trusted him with him. …Wait, but that couldn't be right. Why would he? He was Russia. Everyone called him a monster, a demon of some sort. He was more evil than a chair and when England conjured up some dark evil, it was he who was conjured. Well, that was not exactly true anymore… That was Soviet Russia, Not the Russian Federation… But no one seemed to notice that and his reputation stuck. And it stuck hard. But, perhaps if he could prove himself to just one nation, the Lone Superpower (_Ahh, there's that annoying voice back…_), then maybe the word would spread… It was worth a try, right?

Ivan stood carefully and walked over to the small boy, anxiety level consistently growing. _I do not like this…_ He thought as he cautiously lifted the small boy into his arms. _I do not like this…_ Ivan was nervous, this state, this baby boy, merely fifty years old, was in his arms now. And it was all up to Ivan to take care of him. And that was scary. But he had to try, had to fight the fear. He climbed the stairs slowly, taking note of anything that would wake the small boy or cause him to fall as he walked to the end of the hallway and back into Alaska's room, placing him gently on his bed after maneuvering around the messy floor.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched him for a while, soaking in each little detail. It really was quite amazing. He almost wished he had been able to keep him, if he had known that he had the potential to become a human like this. Ivan got lonely all alone in his house, but if he had had Alaska, there would always be someone there for him. A buddy. A pal. Someone who wasn't afraid of him and who didn't fear him or think he was disgusting… But, that was never to be. He had gotten rid of, _killed_, his one chance for that when he dissolved Prus—_Kaliningrad. He is Kaliningrad, not Prussia, not Gilbert, nyet. You killed him, Ivan._ It was something that always rested heavily on his heart, he regretted it heavily but it had to be done. He was disobedient and that would not be acceptable! Rules were there to be followed and if that wouldn't work for someone, well, there were places for people like that. Ivan knew _that_ all too well…

But Ivan had to pull away from his thoughts; after all he had an image to fix! And how could he explain why he was up there for twenty minutes already, my my… He carefully shut the door and made his way back downstairs, but he stopped, hidden, on the stairs as he heard the American and the Brit talking to each other in low voices…

"Are you sure he's not going to make off with the boy while we have our hands in this water?"

"Nah. I'd hunt him down then."

"He's been gone for twenty bloody minutes!"

"I'm telling you, he's not gonna do anything babe~" Alfred said, putting Tupperware in the fridge for tomorrow. "I can read people~ I trust him enough to do this."

Arthur snorted but silently agreed with the last part of the statement.

"His aura _is_ different…"

"See~? Nothing to worry about~" he paused and added, an afterthought, "He's like Maine, just a lonely sort of guy…"

Arthur shrugged, but found the similarities rather striking. "Perhaps…"

Alfred crept up behind him, sliding his arms around the Brit's smaller waist and resting his head on his shoulder. Arthur blushed and leaned ever so slightly into him.

"I love you~" Al whispered, kissing his cheek. Arthur nodded in response, the words unable to leave his throat. _Pitiful_, he thought. _Abso-fucking-lutely pitiful._

Ivan sat there for a bit longer, listening to their conversation and letting the words soak in.

'Just a lonely sort of guy…'

Well, it wasn't untrue… Ivan had lost everyone, barely ever got to see Erin and his precious Sestra was terrified of him, his other precious Sestra… Well, he was terrified of her. He wouldn't admit how he was more excited to see Alfred and Arthur than Alaska, but it was really true. He really wanted to see his allies again, it was really exciting. He wasn't expecting anything good, even. He just wanted to see their faces again… He missed his comrades, missed them bad. But… They didn't think he was the worst anymore…?

'I trust him enough to do this.'

Trusted him…? Alfred trusted him…? That wasn't something he was ready to believe. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. He just had to sit there for a few minutes. Just had to allow himself to sort this all out. People… People freaked him out a bit. Made him self-conscious, made him feel like some monster, the way they looked at him….. He didn't like it. But, he had to get up. Surely they were already suspicious of him.

"Why would they not be…?" He whispered to himself, head near knees as he sat on the stairs. "I would be… Everyone is, is human nature to be afraid of something like me." Ohh… That little voice had gotten to him again. Ivan didn't like it when that happened. He didn't like thinking of himself as an 'it' or a 'thing', but he couldn't help it. He couldn't change the way he thought of himself. Not alone.

Ivan took a big breath and stood up. He attempted to flatten his hair a bit and shook his head, hoping to clear it. With great power of will, he made his way the rest of the way down the stairs and rejoined the other two nations, watching them in the doorway, hoping they wouldn't turn around and discover him, hoping that, now that Alaska was in bed, they wouldn't take out their pointy words and try and hurt him. Because then Ivan knew what he had to do. He had to hit back with as much force as they had hit him. And… And he didn't want to. He really didn't want to hurt them…..

Alfred swayed back and forth with the smaller man, whispering things in his ear that he knew would make him giggle. Smiling stretching even farther when he saw Arthur's face stretching into that small smile. He nibbled on his ear in exactly the way he knew Arthur loved. Arthur whimpered and melted against him just a little. Finally, he sensed someone watching him from the doorway and turned them around to face Ivan.

"O-Oh! Hey!" he stuttered. Arthur quickly disentangled himself, bright red and went back to doing dishes. "Did he get to sleep easy? Sometimes h-he can be persnickety about that."

Arthur couldn't stop the red flush from overtaking his face. He wished he could reciprocate Alfred's so _blatant_ and _obvious _love for him. But he couldn't, it wasn't a smart thing to do. Sure, he had proved himself when, after they had slept together for the first time, he had run all the way to the airport to convince him it was for real, it was legitimate love and he wasn't going to leave _or_ kick him out. That… that had touched Arthur's heart in such a way that the Shakespearean, Romantic and the Poetic soul of the Enlightenment all had sighed with one love-filled sigh.

Arthur loved him, but that wasn't something he would admit. Not to Alfred and certainly not with other's around. Not after all that had happened. Even at the beginning…

"_OI! Wai' thar wee li'l oone~! We've go' moor' fingah's to chop~!"_

"_N-No! Stop-p it! H-Hel_-" the words died off into a horror filled scream from a young voice and the blood rushed out of his face. He swallowed hard and turned back to the now, willing those dark times to leave him.

_Not to mention all those precious '_children'_ that left you… _the snide, harsh, cynic of his mind told him. Arthur shook his head, trying to focus on Alfred's voice, the way those soft words had melted him and made him _want_ to believe again. He _did _believe again, if only a small part of him.

Alfred hoped he was right about Ivan. And he hoped Arthur was starting to love him too. He still hid the ring he had bought after their first date deep in house, with it's many secret passages. Alfred was filled with a lot of hope. And a lot of drive.

_Yes. We. Can. _

Ivan nodded once, just a short little nod. He wasn't feeling enough confidence not to say something stupid at the moment; he was still trying to absorb what they'd been saying. Oh, but that looked suspicious, didn't it? After all, this was Alfred's child.

"Da, da, he was fine. No trouble just went right to sleep." Arghhh, but he had a little bit of a waver in there he wasn't able to mask entirely. Oh, how Ivan hoped that had gone unnoticed. He could not, would not, expose any weaknesses around these two former Allies. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Alfred cocked his head to the side and looked confused.

"Is something wrong?"

He felt his pulse race and his hands clench into fists. If something had happened to his little boy, there would be hell to pay.

Ivan shook his head and kept his line of focus slightly to the left of Alfred's eyes to avoid anything unpleasant like another unfortunate blush or waver.

"Nothing is wrong with Alaskaya, Alfred, I promise you that. Nothing is wrong with your son." That was true; there was nothing wrong with the boy. Just with the man. The man, left alone with his fears and his past. But he really didn't want to burden Alfred with that.

_After all, complaints merely breed pity. And I need no pity._

"He is safe," Slight waver in his voice. '_Alexei was not safe.' Please shut up. 'He is correct, you know. You killed him. _We _killed him.' Please, please shut up._ "He is safe." Ivan repeated. There was no waver, no weakness in voice. He didn't only have to prove himself to his old Allies; he had to prove himself to… Himself. To prove he could avoid making the same mistakes more than once.

Alfred nodded. There was more to it, but for now, he really didn't give a damn either way. _Just as long as my kids are safe, I'm okay._

"So," Alfred began, "What do you want to do for the rest of the night? I know that one member of our party is asleep but that doesn't mean we all need to hit the hay~"

Arthur nodded, organizing the sink the way Alfred liked. _Even if I cannot say it, I can show it in other ways…_

"What do you want to do, Russia~?" Alfred smiled his smile. Even Arthur had the faintest quirking upward of his lips at that sight.

That dumb smile. He hated it. Hated how real it was, how genuine. It made him remember those last few meetings they had to have before he fell. How Alfred looked so happy with himself. He even was so bold as to tell Ivan that this would _help_. Well, there was a bold faced lie.

But, he smiled his frozen smile right back.

"It matters not to me, Amerika~" He said, shiny teeth showing through his smile. Like a threat. "What would _you_ like to do~? Or perhaps, Mr. United Kingdom~?"

_Why does he have nothing against _his_ union…? _Ivan thought bitterly. _Is he a Democracy? Not entirely. Is a different government, so why has Amerika not tried to destroy _him_ yet? Because they are _friends_? He and I were friends but he still did this to me…_

Ivan just didn't get it…

"Doesn't matter to me~~ There's some new movies on Netflix, I've got tons of board games, or we could listen to music and talk or we could all go for a walk~"

Arthur could tell, even if Alfred could not, he could _tell_ that Ivan had something nasty hidden behind those words. _Bloody git._

"Well then we should leave the decision making up to England~" Ivan said as he turned to face the tiny man, subsequently casting a shadow over him. "So, what will it be, _comrade_~?"

Ivan studied the Brit closely. From his 'proper' clothing to his eyebrows that seemed at this time to be sentient, with the odd (And obviously annoyed) way they were moving. They were really quite distracting. He was very happy that Erin had broken away. He remembered when she had, it was quite comical… She locked herself in her bathroom for at least an hour as Ivan sat against the wooden door and twiddled his thumbs and smoked his cigarettes. He was perplexed as to why she had gone in, but had to stifle a laugh once she returned, missing her 'Kirklandian' eyebrows. She smacked him for it, but he didn't mind. He was glad she did it, for he knew she wouldn't have been as happy to have her freedom but to keep such an obvious souvenir from her oppressor. And it really was quite an improvement, if he could be as bold as to say, that when the brows grew back they grew back much more in control and, you know, human sized. But, why was he thinking about her again? It was silly and put a light blush on Ivan's cheeks. Another thing that bothered Ivan about Arthur was his 'holier than thou' frame of thought when it came to Ivan and his ex-comrades. And he didn't even try to hide it! The way he treated them, the way he spoke to them… Well, it was quite obvious to Ivan what Arthur thought of them. Even his Sestra seemed to receive a more condescending tone from the Caterpillar man and that made Ivan the angriest. She just wanted to make new friends, and while some nations had accepted her more quickly, many still held prejudices or thought she was some kind of moron for caring for her little brother. Ivan hated himself for that. Not only for the looks it got her, but for the fact that people believed the rumors that were spread…

Arthur gave an icy glare. _I am not afraid of you any longer, you bastard._

"_I_ am going to go for a walk." He said stiffly. He turned to Alfred. "You can join me or not." And with that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the house. Once out there, he started walking, a cigarette in his hands and a scowl on his face. Yet, with all his bluster, there _was_ fear under all that anger.

Fear that Alfred would choose Ivan over him.

_Alfred likes broken things… that's why he chose _me_ of all people… but if _he's_ here, he's more broken than I…_ Nowadays, Arthur didn't fear much. When you had lived as stably and as long as he had, there wasn't much to fear. But he did fear one thing. That Alfred would wake up one day, look at the British man sleeping in his bed and kick him out. Tired of his 'plaything', as per usual in his life.

Arthur truly cared for him, but the sensible side, much to the chagrin of his past selves, told him to keep his heart guarded. Everyone had left him. Alfred had never been the first.

His brothers trying to maim him when he was just a lad had been the first. Then the death of his mother, the only one who could defend him against their cruelty, to which he responded by forcing them to stay with him forever. Due to the fact that, however much he hated them, wanted to hate them, they were still family. His family.

Then came the desire for land. Always wanted more land. Something to fill the gap in his heart. _ Mind the gap my arse. _ Who needed a family when you had dozens of colonies?

But then… Then he came along. The jewel in his crown.

America.

And he had taken his care and help and thrown it right back at him. So he tightened his control more and more, attempting to keep him close. Forever.

But that had failed so greatly, the world's largest cock up in his eyes. After that, any colony of his had fought for their independence. And soon, very soon, he was all alone again. Hated by those he had cared for.

So silent and quiet in that house of his, with it's antiques from the orient and relics from his old days as the king of the world.

But there was a hope.

When he needed help, need it the most, Alfred had been there. When he was broken, he was there to pick up the pieces carefully, meld them together and present his shattered heart with a thrice-damned bow. It was after the First World War that the feeling had started.

Alfred had been so glamorous and caring in that damn uniform of his. It made his heart swell with, what he first thought to be 'surrogate fatherly pride'. But pride didn't make you want to kiss your 'children' or have them hold you and kiss back.

And then, with the Second World War, it was the damn Air Force uniform. The hat tipped at a cocky angle. The jacket, the straight legged pants that showed how much taller he was. Their travels across Europe, fighting alongside each other, him carrying Arthur when the bombings had shattered his legs, their discovery of the death camps, their time on V-E Day.

And when it was all over, Alfred left, content with his Cold War. He had to, 'Save the world' after all.

So Arthur retreated into his house, kept up the ruse of being fine and dandy and just _lovely_, thank you very much. He read novels. _American novels in secret_. Watched the occasional movies. _All of Alfred's bloody films_. He practiced his magic. _Watching him when I was worried over what was said in the papers._ Called him on occasion. _Waited for _his_ calls._

Then that Frog. That damn Frog. Gave a ring, told him all about the bet on 'Cher Alfred and Ivan's _unresolved sexual tension _of theirs.' He almost lost it.

He said nothing of course, hung up, and went back to his tea, the feeling of being abandoned once again tricking it to taste like bitter rain and mud.

Back at the house, in the well-lit kitchen, Alfred gave a sigh.

"What was that for dude?"

"I was being _friendly_…" Ivan responded with an indignant sniff.

What did the Brit have to complain about, anyway? He still had his family. Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland… He even still had Alfred. The only that had _really _left him had been Australia and Ireland. And why should those two matter over all else? Sure, Scotland wasn't the biggest fan of the tiny man, but he still stood by his side. Still fought under the Union Jack, didn't he? And Australia, he didn't even care for Australia. He just used him as an island prison for all his criminals, pushing the natives out of their homes like he had with America.

_Australia started out black for god's sake. England changed his race._ He thought, frown lines knitting his eyebrows together, but that smile stayed. And Ireland? Erin? He oppressed her people as well, but she still stayed for quite a while, longer than Ivan would have stayed with England if he treated him in such a way, that was for sure.

_Well,_ he began to chew on his lip. _Perhaps that is not true… My sestras stayed with me, nearly to the end… You do not leave the ones you love, I suppose. If England were my miniature brother, I am not so sure I would leave him either. But if the stories were true of the way he treated them, I would try and make him miserable at the very least…_

But what if he were like _him_? Would he even be able to leave? If he treated his body like some sort of carnival ride, or used him for target practice like _he_ had… Well, Ivan was not sure he would have the emotional capability to free himself from that kind of situation again. He didn't want to think about his 'Papa', though. But his mind had wandered there, and his hand moved towards his scarf covered neck.

Ivan was sure by now that Alfred had again resumed speaking, he could hear him faintly, like through static and over oceans. His thoughts were far away, though, back to those frozen Steppes of his childhood. There were voices sneaking up on him, one strong and feminine, the other cruel and deep. He recognized one voice immediately, the man's voice, but the woman's was like that of a dream. He knew he had heard it, but that was probably only a dream, too.

His eyes had a glassy look, like the bum who lived in the alley by Ivan's house. But this was not from alcohol. And Ivan couldn't allow himself to blink, lest his past escape him. Alfred would ask questions he did not want to answer; he would probably mock him, too. He just had to stay strong and keep himself together. He didn't want to cry in public, no matter how heavy his heart felt, he would keep it in. He had to if he wanted to survive.

"…Russia? Russia? Are you even listening to me?" Alfred was getting fed up with this.

Outside, it had started to rain. The soft kind you can't hear unless it's absolutely quiet. Arthur looked up at the sky and watched the drops fall.

"Yes, Amerika…" Ivan said quietly, fighting his way back to 2010, "I am listening to you." His voice was quiet and hurt as he continued to stare straight ahead.

He wished he could just close his eyes and make the images dancing before him go away, but he couldn't without compromising his cover. So he kept his eyes open and watched red blood mix with white snow. He wished he had someone there to help him, someone to save him and tell him it would all be alright. But he only had Amerika…

"….What's wrong?"

Arthur silently debated the merits of going back into he house or not.

"Nothing is wrong. Just a little tired." It was a lie, but lies were necessary. Not always necessary, but definitely at times, they were. And now was one of those times.

Ivan was not ready to tell Alfred the tales of his past, not ready to tell of the Golden Hoard and of Mongolia. Those scars would stay under wraps, those stories and memories would stay within him for as long as they could. He wouldn't let any of the others let their minds be tainted and their imaginations run wild with the tales of his childhood. Even his sisters didn't know the whole story, since they were taken by Lithuania instead of the hoard. No one knew the whole story. Some thought they knew, thought they understood, but there were only two who truly understood. And those two were Ivan and Mongolia himself. And Ivan didn't necessarily want to discuss the 'old days' with him over a cup of coffee, so he would keep those centuries to himself. Ivan took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure. His wide chest heaved with the intake of air and he very gently blinked once, head slightly upturned, to drive the moisture back into his eyes before looking back down at Alfred with carefully shielded eyes.

"I am fine."

Alfred looked back at him, studying him.

"I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to this atmosphere thing y'all always talk about, but I can tell when someone's lying to me." Arthur finally got up from his spot and started walking back to the well-lit house.

He stumbled into the house a few minutes later, soaking wet and even more miserable at the look Alfred was giving Ivan.

"Arthur!" Alfred rushed over, "Babe, are you okay?" He kissed his forehead, trying to make sure he was all there. "Are you alright?"

"I'm f-fine. Just a b-bit of water."

"You're soggy~" Alfred shook his head and smiled at the smaller man. "Here~ Let's get you some warm clothes and get you dried off and I'll make you your favorite tea~" Arthur blushed but gave a small nod. He shook a little, as the temperature had dropped significantly at night. He was more enticed by the prospect of getting to wear one of Alfred's old college sweatshirts, the one's that smelled like him. _God, I sound like some bloody twat…_

"I'll be right back honey~ I'm gonna go get a towel~~" Alfred bustled out, and Arthur stood there, dripping, cold and, most importantly, alone with Ivan.

Ivan relaxed a bit, leaning against the wall and rubbing (Though really wiping discreetly) his eyes. He was glad that Arthur had not been there for that little conversation. Silence followed, though not exactly an awkward silence. A mutual silence. Or at least Ivan thought it was a mutual silence…

"Just s-say it." Arthur looked at him tiredly. Like he had given up. As if he had expected this. His hair was plastered to his face and his teeth chattered every so often.

"Say?" He removed his hands from his eyes and looked down at Arthur. "What am I to say?"

He was a bit perplexed as he fixed his sharp yet heavily bagged eyes on the Brit. _What am I to say? _He thought of a long list of things that it could be that the small island nation wanted him to say. But, he was probably over thinking things. It was probably best just to hear England out.

"Say exactly what you've been _implying_ and _hinting_ at all evening. Just say it." Alfred walked back in with the towel and began wrapping it around Arthur, keeping quiet.

"I have been neither implying nor hinting at anything, England." His voice was flat and monotonous. Smile kept on his lips but teetering.

Ivan was getting annoyed.

Arthur just glared at that point. He _knew_ he was getting at something. It was so _blatant_. But he wouldn't admit it…

"Arthur, maybe you should just leave it alone."

"No. I want to hear it. Whatever problem he has with me, I want to hear the whole bloody list."

"Nyet."

His voice seemed to drop an octave or two, but it probably didn't. The effect was probably just brought on by the look that was stealing over the large man's face. His smile was pulled tight, more obviously forced than usual. His hands balled into tight fists, nails digging into the rough, calloused skin.

He didn't want to ruin this. His hopes had been rising and falling through his visit, but after that last fall… Well, once you've hit rock bottom, there is nowhere one could go but up.

And he wanted so badly to get back up.

Arthur was shaking again, but mute. Alfred looked back and forth.

"I'll just take him upstairs." He picked Arthur up easily and carried him up to their room. Drying him and changing his clothes. He even gave him his Ole Miss sweatshirt. All the while, Arthur said naught a word.

Alfred came back down to the kitchen to make his tea.

"So…"

"I do not… I do not wish to discuss." Ivan had slid his way down into a seated position against the wall, knees up to chest and face buried into his scarf. His voice had returned to its ordinary tone but was a bit muffled from the thick white material.

Ivan knew he had messed up there, even when he had tried hard not to. He really had tried… If it were up to him, and he still had his spot on the top of the world, he would have definitely given Arthur his full opinion. No holding back. But, well, as it was… And he didn't even like the little man! But he was just so lonely… He didn't like being alone. He didn't like how empty his house had been the last eighteen years. There were now only sounds if _he_ made them. No sounds from Sestra and Toris cooking in the kitchen, no clacking of typewriter keys from Estonia or stuttered apologies from Latvia, none of Bulgaria's or Poland's loud television programs. They may have all hated Ivan, but at least they were there. And when Yao would come to visit…? That would make Ivan very happy. Or when Vietnam had visited. Or his hushed late night calls to Erin, they grew less and less frequent as the Union grew and expanded. Erin didn't like his Union, but she still… She still liked him. He had hoped. Even when he was with Vietnam, even when he would go a bit mad, even when he forced his Sestras into starvation, Ivan could only hope she still liked him.

He felt, oh what was the word?, he felt regretful. Ivan didn't like feeling regretful, but he felt it so very much. But he was the Russian Federation, right? He didn't need to feel any regret. No, he had a clean slate again. But then why did his chest hurt so much? Especially when he thought of the look Arthur had just had on his face. There wasn't any reason for that to hurt so badly. He deserved it, right? He just wanted to have someone to talk to. _Or maybe,_ Ivan thought, burying more of his face into the scarf. _Maybe I will call someone. I could call from Alfred's phone, so they need not know it was me. No talking. I just want to hear a voice. Just one voice that sounds… happy… Happy to answer the phone to my call._

It was pathetic. He knew. And he didn't like that. But…

Sometimes, there're just things a lonely and broken man needs to hear.

Alfred didn't know what to say. He started boiling the water as he had done so many times in the past five years and turned back around to look at Ivan.

"…" he crouched down by Ivan and put his hand on his shoulder. "It'll work out~ Don't worry Ivan~ We'll all just apologize and be friends again in the morning~" He was mad at Ivan for hurting his Arthur, but that didn't mean he couldn't have sympathy. He was a reconstructer, a hero; he took other people's problems and fixed them, never mind his own. He squeezed his shoulder gently, like he would with his kids.

Arthur sat in their big bed, his nose pressed into the sleeves of the large sweatshirt that hung off of his smaller frame. He wondered many things while he sat. Something's were simple and mundane, leaving the kettle on sort of things. Others were much darker. _Why hasn't Alfred come back yet? _ The microwave had beeped hadn't it?

He had come downstairs after the microwave had been incessantly beeping for five minutes and looked at Alfred. Helping Ivan. Being kind to him when _he_ was the one who was in the rain and cold and chilled in every part of his body. _He loves me… right?_ And yet… he knew it would happen… His heart kept splitting in two, dividing and dividing as if that would make the pain less and less. The tears came unbidden to his eyes. _Hopefully that fucking prat doesn't see me… bloody embarrassing to be crying over what never was…_ He silently went back upstairs, shut the bedroom door and sobbed into Alfred's pillow. The heartbroken, shuddering breaths that died in the cotton.

Ivan wasn't exactly sure what to say at first. Alfred's hand was very warm, and it was a kind act that should have felt nice, but it just made Ivan feel more alone. Why was _America_ showing him kindness? It was nothing more than pity, wasn't it? Why did he always have to be such a good person…? Ivan didn't want to fully forgive Alfred yet. He wanted to hate him. Just a bit more. It was too soon. Too soon since he held that gun to his head and pulled that trigger. And even _that_ had been too soon. It hadn't even been one hundred years since the last time…

He didn't want Alfred to comfort him. But… He didn't want to be alone. He just wanted to be better. He wanted everything to be good, wanted everyone to be friends. But, that was a pipe dream, wasn't it? No matter how much Ivan wished for it, it would never happen. There would always be war and death because he had failed and he had fallen. No one wanted to become one with a loser. Even his Sestra Natalia was angry with him…

"You should go take that tea up to England, Amerika." Was his muffled reply. He wanted to add more. He wanted to fix this. "Tell… Tell England, that I am sorry…" It was hard to choke out, but it had to be said. There was more that needed to be added. He knew it. Even if he didn't want to. "And tell yourself… That Russia says thank you…"

Oh, he wished he weren't so awkward, so socially handicapped from years under the Iron Curtain… But, there were just some things that had to be said, no matter how bright the blush they brought to your face was.

"No need to thank me bud~~" Alfred ruffled his hair and stood up, his left knee—California—creaking. "Just doing my job~" He finished the tea and went upstairs, adding "And it's what friends do~"

He reached the bedroom door without tripping and spilling and was pretty pleased with himself when he heard the crying coming from in there. He knocked gently on the door, and said very calmly, "Arthur? Honey, what's wrong?"

The crying stopped. The room was silent as a tomb. He only hoped the ending would be a little different than him having to burn books and become a nomad.

"Arthur?" He opened the door carefully. Arthur was lying in the bed, facing away from him. His pulse raced and his heart beat faster at the sight, worried that Arthur was going to up and leave. Again. He set the tea on the nightstand and sat next to him, staring at his red-rimmed eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?" he stroked his always-smooth skin with his rough and tan hands.

"Just leave me." He croaked, staring straight ahead. The lightest blush was on his face. _Damn Alfred… even when I'm trying to hate him, he makes my heart ache for him…_

"Never~ What's wrong?"

"…"

"I can't help you if you do—"

"Russia. Just go fuck him and be done with it."

"W-what? Arthur! I only love _you_! Why would I have s-s-sex with him?" Even after all the practicing in the mirror and acting older and maturerer, he still had trouble with some words. Arthur sat up, his old sweatshirt hanging off his smaller shoulders.

"You like to fix things. And he's 'more broken' then I. So go fix _him_ and tell _him_ you love him." Alfred wrapped him in a hug.

"Arthur Kirkland~ I only have eyes for you~ I only love you~ I don't care if there are thousands of other men out there that are just as attractive as you or just as broken as you. _You_ are the only one for _me~_ And if I have to run across mountains and swim valleys and climb mountains to prove it to you, I will~ So don't cry about that, because I refuse to leave you~" he took a deep breath, gathering up his courage. "So d-do you want to move in with me? Even only partially, cause I know you can't always live here, but for when you visit and stuff~"

Arthur was quiet but hugged him tightly. Then, in the faintest of whispers, Alfred was almost sure he had missed it: "I love you too…~~~~" He cleared his throat and said more loudly, more clearly, "Yes. I would l-love to~"

"Super~~~~~" Alfred was over the moon. His grin was reaching watermelon proportions. And just as Alaska was earlier, he was just plain happy. Not just because he had finally plucked up the courage to ask Arthur, but also because he had heard those three words. _Even if he didn't mean for me to hear it, it's a start~_ He finally released him and let him lay back down, but still kept his hand entwined with his. "Now~ Drink that tea Artie~~ I made it specially for you so you wouldn't be cold anymore~"

Arthur blushed and focused on drinking the tea, adding a non-insulting "G-git…"

Alfred just beamed.

Unfortunately, not everyone's spirits were quite as high. Ivan sat there in the kitchen, disbelieving of what Alfred said about friendship. He'd been alive long enough to know that Alfred's words were most probably a lie. So, having nothing else for him in the now empty kitchen, he made his way upstairs to the room he was staying in and sat in the window seat. It was a nice view, and Ivan was very pleased to see a landline phone across the room. He picked it up, contemplating who he was to call. He still definitely needed to hear someone familiar, someone he was once friends with.

So, why not Yao? He and Yao had been great friends. Ivan looked through his address list in his phone, coming to the double-u's and stopping on 'Wang Yao'. He missed his little Chinese friend… He typed it into Alfred's home phone and listened to it ring once twice three times.

"Ni hao?" Ahh, he sounded tired… What time was it in China? Ivan didn't want to say anything, that would ruin it. Yao would hang up, he was sure. Yao didn't love Ivan anymore, they weren't comrades… They were only neighbors. "Korea? Is that you, Aru?" Oh, now he sounded annoyed… "This isn't funny, Aru, I have work in the morning." He wasn't as happy sounding as Ivan hoped he would be… "I am hanging up, Aru. Goodbye, whoever this is." And the line went dead. Ivan tried not to be disappointed, he wasn't letting his hopes get up in the first place… But it would have still been nice.

Perhaps another Ally…? _Perhaps Francis._

Again, he scrolled and called and resolved to stay silent as the phone rang.

Once… Twice…

"Âllo~ Francis Bonnefois parle, et qui est-que-tu~?"

Alfred walked back down to the kitchen to find…. No one.

"Where did he go?"

Ivan resolved to stay silent, but made his way to the big bed and climbed into the covers. It was much more luxurious than his home bed, but very nice. Francis sounded happy to answer the phone, which was nice. He was glad their relations were better than some of the other nations, Francis always seemed so… well, French. So happy and passionate. He liked Francis a lot. He was a good boy. He decided to just lay in bed. Perhaps Francis would tell a story to him or sing a song. _Definitely not…_ He thought. _Francis may be Francis, but I do not see him going that far…_

But, the happy sounding voice was enough for him and he kept quiet, hoping he'd say at least a bit more.

"Allo~? Who is there? ... Angleterre~ is that you~~? Are you calling me while intoxicated again~? 'as Alfred let you out again~?" Francis chuckled. "No response~? My my~ I must 'ave stolen your 'eart non~? Shall I serenade you ma cher~?" He cleared his throat. _This is sure to make 'im upset~ "_Des yeux qui font baiser les miens~, Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche~, Voila le portrait sans retouche~ De l'homme auquel j'appartiens~ Quand il me prend dans ses bras~ Il me parle tout bas~, Je vois la vie en rose~" He paused and waited for a sound of anger.

Ivan was anything but angered, he was actually quite pleased. This was a much more successful call than the one to Yao had been. Why, Ivan almost wanted to hold a bit of a conversation now. Not about anything in particular, of course, that would probably just make everyone sad… But, just a bit of friendly prattle.

But seeing what else he had to say would be nice, too.

"'ello? …. Angleterre? …. Who is this?"

But what if Francis did not want to talk to Ivan? What if he became afraid and hung up? That would certainly be a nice cherry on top of this day. There was that slight change that he would be happy to hear from the northern giant but Ivan, being the realist he is, wasn't exactly too hopeful for that to happen.

But he had gotten a surprise song to raise his spirits…

"Hello, Francis." His voice was low, quiet. He didn't want Alfred or Arthur to know how starved for human interaction he was. Well, _friendly_ human interaction. It was embarrassing.

"R-Russe? C'est toi? …n-n'as pas Angleterre?"

_Oh. He recognized my voice._ Ivan regretted speaking as soon as he had finished the first vowel. Francis liked to talk. He liked to talk to Alfred and he liked to talk to Arthur. So, wouldn't he tell them that he had gotten a call? From Ivan? From Alfred's house? This was bad. Very bad.

"Was? Nein, wer ist das? Ich bin aus Königsberg." _Fast thinking, Ivan, fast thinking…_ "Es tut mir leid, aber ich muss die falsche nummer. Auf wiedersehen!"

It wasn't a lie. Königsberg, the capital of what was formerly Prussia (Now Kaliningrad), _was_ Ivan's land now. But he hoped against hope that Francis would shut his mouth.

But he didn't trust his hopes.

"Tu n'es pas Prusse. Arrêtez avec l'acte Russe. Why did you call? Do you require my services~?"

Well, he was stuck now. His French was as rusty as his German, but he understood that the cover was blown. A bittersweet defeat.

"Nyet, not really. Just saying hello. I actually must hurry on to bed, though, Francis~ Au revoir~~" And hung up.

Ivan heaved a sigh and lay on his back, one arm covering his face.

He could be such a coward.

-AFJ—IB—

_There you go. Sorry for my so-so French, I stopped at French 3. :/_

_-VG4455_


	5. Chapter 5

_More reviews? Hello again! Heh, yeah, Al's texting is pretty true to life for a lot of people, huh~? I dunno if many people refuse to use apostrophes and such like Ivan does, but in far future chapters there'll be a character who uses text talk. And I write for him. And I write for Ivan. Needless to say, it was extremely difficult for me. =_= Uhh, yeah! And about Erin, she's my little baby~~ -3- I luff her lots, da? Yeah, I made her before the official character came out, and Ireland always struck me as more of a girl, anyway… And that is how Irish people talk. Leave off lotsa letters an' all that. It's very hard to understand them, but you get to know their patterns~ And sorry to everyone that this isn't USRUS….. They're just bros… (Maybe we should change the category to 'Friendship'…?)And yeah…. Ivan needs a hug a lot, poor fellow, no love for the Russian… /3 And to the one who was sayin' about the '~'s, sorry, but that's just something we've gotten in the habit of doing… I honestly don't know if there's anything we can do about it anymore, but we can maybe, maybe, try and make them less prevalent. Maybe. ;) Love, the second author. _

_-AFJ—IB-_

It wasn't the best night Ivan had ever weathered through, but it was far from the worst. He had listened for Alfred to go join Arthur in bed and climbed carefully out the window and down the steep wall of the house (Sub sequentially tearing off some of the skin on his finger tips and the edges of his nails). He decided to take a midnight walk, since he quite liked those, around the large lake behind Alfred's house. Barely visible in the dead of the night, except for the brief flickering of his lighter, followed by the soft glow of a cigarette.

Ivan liked the night. The serenity, the peaceful sounds that floated lazily through the air… The only thing he didn't like was the lonely feeling that surrounded him. The knowledge that if something happened out here, he'd be all alone in fixing it and would be all alone if something really happened. Something bad.

So Ivan just smoked his cigarettes and walked around the lake and the property for what felt like hours. And it probably was hours, the sun was peeking over the horizon as he climbed back up the side of the house, long legs reaching from ledge to ledge up the two stories back to the guest room where he was staying.

Alaska jumped out of bed as soon as the clock hit 6:30. After all, one of Alfred's rules was that unless it was Christmas or a medical emergency or a national emergency, you don't enter the room until 6:30. He ran up the stairs, sliding on the carpet a few times. He jumped in the room and started jumping on the big white bed.

"Dad, get up! Come on Dad! Up up UP!"

"Huh?" Alfred sat up blearily, squinting without Texas. "What time is it?"

"6:31~!"

Alfred groaned. Arthur tried to bury himself under the pillows. The childish screams could be heard all through the house.

Ivan had only just snuck back in when he heard his new 'family member's screams. Ivan began to sprint. Something terrible _had_ happened.

He didn't stop to realize that the screams were not screams of terror or pain; he just knew that there was a young child, one he now cared for, who was screaming.

So, Ivan was a bit perplexed when he burst into Alfred's bedroom and saw the three on the bed, all seemingly perfectly fine and dandy.

"Shto…?"

"Oh, hey Russia~"

"Grandpa~!" Alaska launched himself at Ivan, giggling the whole time.

Ivan caught him deftly, a bit perplexed to say the least.

_But then again, those screams did not sound quite so… bad._ Ivan felt foolish now. Of course nothing was wrong! He felt a blush steal over his face, something that had been happening much too often lately

"Good morning…"

"Good morning Grandpa~~~!" Alaska hugged Ivan tightly. "Dad, Dad, I want waffles." Alfred chuckled and Arthur got out from under the mound of pillows, a small smile at the corner of his lips.

"Sure thing kid~" Alfred got out of bed, stretching, his dog tags catching the morning light. He was dressed in his boxers and a plain white t-shirt. He started walking out the door snatching Texas and putting it on as he told him, "Well~ c'mon~~"

Alaska giggled and tugged on Ivan's arm.

"Follow him Grandpa~!"

This whole family dynamic still perplexed Ivan. He had no idea why he was being marched into a kitchen in America by a half naked man and a boy who used to be a hunk of flesh on his lower back at six thirty in the morning to make waffles.

But perhaps this was a normal family? Ivan could not be sure…

But then, none of this was normal at all. Then why did everyone else feel so… Natural? It was odd. And his torn up fingers were starting to sting a bit.

Alfred started to get things put together and started cooking as the light started to break into the kitchen. He whistled his and Arthur's song as he started mixing the batter from scratch. Alaska was chattering on about something or another when he noticed his fingers.

"Grandpa, what happened to your fingers?"

"Something happened to my fingers?" Ivan looked down at his hands, inspecting the damage. "Oh, da. Nothing life threatening~" He casually waved his hands, "Now are you going to tell me more about those flowers you were growing~? They sounded very pretty…~"

He remembered what Alfred said about Alaska and blood and didn't want to start anything. He was to be on his best behavior! But, they weren't bleeding right now. So they were safe, right?

Sniffing, he shrugged. Alfred sent a smile Ivan's way that just screamed fatherly pride. Then he went back to making the waffles, from scratch, exactly the way he liked them, with mini chocolate chips too, and eggs, scrambled, because that's what a good breakfast needed; and the ever-so-delicious _bacon_ vital to every growing child. Yes, if you could say one thing it was that Alfred loved breakfast food, even more so when he could make it for his family.

"You should get Band-Aids for those, Dad always has Batman and Spiderman and Superman ones~ OH! So then, I was telling Miss Sarah to be careful with the shears and I was putting in those bulbs," Alaska giggled. "_Bulbs~_ I like that word. It's a funny word~ And then tatqik came running out and tackled me~! Just like he always does~ but Miss Sarah got really scared and pulled out her gun all be—"

"…Alaskaya?" Why had he gotten so quietly so suddenly? It made Ivan's blood freeze in his veins and his heart skip a beat. He didn't very much like that feeling.

He focused his gaze on the boy with wide eyes.

"Your blood smells different." He tilted his head to the side, looking at Ivan. "Why?" He sniffed more, trying to figure it out.

Well, that wasn't something you heard every day. His blood smelled different? Compared to whom? And why would it smell different?

"My _blood_ smells different?" He looked at the young state, fear replaced by confusion in his icy violet eyes. "How so?"

"Like… like… like a train station." Alaska grabbed one of his hands, turning it over and over. Alfred could only look with apprehension. "Like a train…" He lifted the hand, looking at it closely. He then stuck out his tongue to lick the wounds.

_whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell whatthehell….._

Ivan wanted to rip his hand away, maybe even smack the boy. He was _licking_ his _fingers_. This was definitely an invasion of his personal space and not exactly something he, you know, enjoyed in the slightest. But it… It was actually quite intriguing. Why why why had the little boy begun to suck on his cut fingers and why why why did his blood smell like a train station? Certainly he had vast railways and large supplies of oil and gas, but that wouldn't make his blood smell different…? Had an oil line burst somewhere, perhaps? And he had just failed to feel it? Was it seeping into his blood stream, mixing the blood and oil into some sort of morbid slurry?

Ivan really was not enjoying the tingling sensation of the tongue's taste buds, but he was quite interested of getting to the bottom of this new mystery.

"Alaska! Stop that!" Alfred plucked the boy from Ivan's arms and set him on the ground. "Christ, that was not cool. You can't just suck people's blood!" Alaska looked down at the floor and twisted his hands behind his back. "I told you, no more blood! Now, go to your room. You can come back down when it's time fore breakfast." Alaska kept his head down but said quietly:

"I'm sorry Dad… I'm really sorry Grandpa…"

"You better be. I haven't been this embarrassed in years." Alaska sniffled and said he was sorry one more time before heading upstairs quickly and shutting himself in his room. _Dad's been so mean since…_ya know_… happened… and then all the money problems… he's not embarrassed of me is he? He still loves me… right?_

Ivan kind of wanted to tell Alfred off. Just a bit. He was happy he had gotten Alaska off of him but he didn't have to yell at him like that… He's only a child, after all. He can't control what tendencies he has. Ivan was just a big softy when it came to kids, and the poor boy seemed near tears. _And_ he still hadn't found out why his blood smelled of trains. And he kind of really wanted that mystery solved. But… Maybe he shouldn't say anything? After all, it was Alfred's child. Alfred, being the father, must know best, right? It had been too long since Ivan had cared for children, he wasn't too sure of what was 'in vogue' for parenting in the twenty-first century.

"Amerika… You did not have to punish him, I am fine, da…?" Ivan was a bit embarrassed himself, gazing at his big rough hands.

Alfred opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He hated having to punish his kids, especially Alaska and Hawaii. They were so young. So carefree. But he had to be a good parent. Good parents don't let their kids do whatever they want. _Right?_

"I just…" he sighed. He leaned again the counter running his hand through his golden hair. "It's hard, with them being so old. He's 52 years old and he's eight…he should know better and not. It makes it hard to put him and Hawaii in school but easy because they're so smart…" Alfred absentmindedly stirred the waffle batter. "I don't want to yell at them… but sometimes I get angry…" Alfred paused. "It's just hard… 50 of them, one of me…" Alfred shook his head, standing up straight. "Whatever, he'll know better next time~" The smile returned and everything was alight with the world. Or at least, in Alfred's world. _You're never fully dressed without a smile…_

Ivan nodded once, still inspecting his hands.

"I know, Amerika… And you seem to do well, he seems well behaved… But, da, he is only a child. And even at fifty two, he is only a child in a nation's life. A baby." But, Ivan shrugged and looked back up at Alfred. "Just as long as you know what you are doing, I suppose…~"

This probably was just another case of abandoned caretaker skills on his part.

Alfred busied himself with cooking and was soon finished. "Alaska, you can come down now!" Alaska shuffled down the stairs a few moments later, looking sad and just morose all over.

"I'm r-really s-s—"

Alfred picked up Alaska and hugged him tightly. Alaska wrapped his thin arms around him and hugged him back.

"I'm sorry Alaska. I shouldn't have yelled at you, it was an honest mistake and you're just a little boy—my little boy~— and you're still learning~ it's just been really tough at work… forgive me?"

Alaska nodded, burying his face in his shoulder. "I forgive you Daddy~ I love you~~~" Alfred stroked his soft hair and gave him a kiss on his wrinkle-free forehead.

"I love you too Alaska~~~~~"

"Can we have breakfast now~?"

"Of course~"

"Yay~!" Alfred set him on the ground and he ran to get to his seat at the kitchen table, scrambling into a seat. "Sit next to me Grandpa~!"

"Of course…~" Ivan took a seat next to the little boy, thanking Alfred as he sat for making breakfast.

He may not like him, but he wouldn't let that get in the way of being polite.

Because that would just be rude.

Alfred and Alaska began to eat with much gusto at that, and as soon as Arthur came downstairs and took his place next to Alfred, they began to talk animatedly as well. Arthur merely nodded along to their stories, the faintest of smiles on his face, sipping his tea and eating modest toast with preserves.

Ivan listened to their conversation mildly, letting his mind wander from time to time and looking around the big brightly lit kitchen. It really was such a nice house… And the food really was quite delicious. Bacon and eggs and toast… He knew he couldn't let himself get used to this, though. After all, it was only for the weekend. And he wouldn't stay there any longer than he had to. But it would be so nice while it lasted.

After they had finished eating, Alfred sat looking at Alaska telling yet another silly story. When he was finished, he smiled at him, looking at the little piece of jam on his cheek.

"Alright kid~ Go get dressed and we'll start your homework~"

"But Daaaaaaad, I wanna go outside!"

"How about a deal~?"

"Okay~! Make me an offer I cannot refuse." Alaska put on a fake serious face.

Alfred laughed. "Alright~ Alright~ Don Fontane, how about you do half your homework and you can go play soccer with Iggy~?" Arthur looked at him, but nodded at Alaska.

"Okay~!" And with that Alaska rushed upstairs to get changed. Alfred chuckled. Arthur just shook his head but smiled that rare smile at Alfred.

Ivan was watching them out of the corner of his eye, sipping on a cup of tea. Their family dynamic was just so… _American_. It was odd to see, but just fit Alfred so well he wondered how he could have ever imagined that he lived in a house all alone.

There was a pain growing in his chest. It was… Was it envy? It might have been.

He knew one thing for sure, though. He wanted to meet the other states.

_So it must be jealousy…_ The pain grew a bit. He didn't want to be jealous. He wanted to keep surviving without nagging wants.

There was a knocking at the door.

"I'll get it~!" Alaska came shooting down the stairs, a ball of energy as always. He nearly tore open the door to be swooped up by his brother Oregon. "Oreo~!"

"Hey AK~" He smiled, tickling the thin eight year old. "Hey Dad~" he called into the house. "Alaska left his bags at my house, so I came to drop'em off~"

Ivan cocked his head to the side slightly, a bit perplexed.

"Another state is here?"

"Yep~ Oregon by the sound of it~ Come on in kid~" Oregon walked in holding Alaska by his ankles, the little boy giggling the whole time. He was lean but sturdy, with bright green eyes and half brown half blonde hair that was wavy and fit his head like a helmet. He looked to be about 15, with an easy smile on his face. That is, until he saw Ivan.

"Dad," he said cautiously, setting down Alaska with ease. "What's Russia doing here?"

Well, it's not like he was expecting anything different. Why would he, this was the child of his greatest enemy and adversary for so many years.

But there he was. They really existed, not just one random kid with some oddly American name. Ivan chose not to say anything, instead he just fixed his lavender eyes into the boy's green eyes and waited for whatever may next happen to happen.

"He's here to see Alaska~"

"Do you think that's a smart idea?" His tone was that of a parent asking a child and not the other way around.

"We're friends now, don't hate."

"I ain't hatin', I'm just sayin'."

"Oreo~ he's my Grandpa~ be nice~"

"Yeah?"

"Yep~!" Alaska beamed up at Oregon and the elder state smiled and nodded. Alaska was even happier at that and started telling him about their planned soccer excursion.

That… wasn't so bad. Surprisingly not so bad. Ivan was surprised how not so bad that went.

_Are the states really so quick to forgive…?_ He wondered, _They are children, so they may be… But they have also been very sheltered. The chances are slim._

Sure, Oregon didn't trust Ivan. But, like Alfred always said, you had to give everyone a second chance and everyone the benefit of the doubt. And that's what he would do.

"And then—"

"Alright Alaska, go get started on your homework~ Stop stalling~"

"Fine~" and with that he ran back upstairs and started his assignments. Oregon leaned against the nearest chair at the table and looked at Alfred.

"How's the boss doing?"

"Good, things are going well~ He's really committed to trying to change things for the better~"

Oregon nodded.

"And how's school~?"

"Good~ Math is giving me trouble, but that's why I keep going right~? Gotta get better at it some way~"

"Yeo~ Try try again~"

"Yeah~" Oregon paused. "And how are you England~?"

"Good, thank you for asking Oregon~" Oregon smiled at him. Unlike the older states, he didn't really hate Arthur. He actually kind of liked him in general. Alfred was happy the kids were starting to get used to their dating and that they were starting to like him. Arthur was thrilled that this state actually acknowledged him.

It was quite fascinating, really, that each state got its own body, name, personality… He wondered why his regions didn't get them, though they probably would be none too nice or stable, even. It was probably best this way.

Still, it was curious. Surely no other nation functioned like that. With a family like that.

Ah, there was that jealous stab again.

Oregon turned towards his Arctic neighbor and smiled.

"What about you Russia~?"

Oh my! Ivan was being spoken to! A light blush broke out over his face.

"I have been alright, thank you… A bit toasty and a bit dirty at home right now, but nothing I cannot handle. And yourself?"

"Oh just fine and dandy~ Bill came over for a visit the other day, so that was interesting~ but nothing to report~ All quiet on the home front~" Oregon's smile grew a little bit.

Ivan simply nodded; he had never been the best at small talk.

"That sounds nice…"

Oregon grinned again with his slightly crooked teeth and turned back to Alfred.

"Well Dad, I gotta be going, I have a final tomorrow that I need to study for."

"Okay kid~ Good luck~!"

"Thanks~ Love you Dad~"

"Love you too son~" Alfred smiled his extra-sunny, extra-Alfred smile.

"Bye England, bye Russia," he stood up and shouted upstairs. "Bye Alaska!" And then he left out he front door.

That was… A bit uncomfortable. But definitely went better than Ivan had expected.

"He seems to be a good boy." He said, fingers twisting around the fabric of his scarf. He was growing wary being in Alfred's house for so long, but it wasn't as hostile an environment as he had expected it to be.

"Yeah~~ he's a good kid~~ very responsible~~~" Alfred smiled in a way that shined with inner pride. Arthur's mouth twitched upward at the corners, showing that he too felt a small amount of happiness about the smartness of Alfred's children.

He nodded again. It annoyed him, a bit. That little bit of his habits. Nodding. Always nodding. When he didn't know what to say or he was feeling uncomfortable, it was a bit of a safety net. Just so simple. Head tilt, nothing more. No words needed. He'd like to use his words, really he would. But after so many years, it was just all so strange now… But, he was surviving. And that was enough for him.

-AFJ—IB—

Enjoy.

-VG4455


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the weekend passed without much incident.

Alaska wore a constant watermelon smile. Alfred worked at night in order to keep up. Arthur read in order to keep sane around the Russian. It seemed almost bittersweet when Ivan had to leave. Alaska cried and made sure that Ivan wouldn't forget him, telling him to bring him back something special from Russia for the next time he visited.

Even Alfred felt a pang of sadness at the sight of the car leaving the large driveway. He sure didn't get out as much as he used to back during the World Wars, he almost missed seeing everyone on a regular basis, even if it was such dire times. But with his boss, the work he had, it would never be possible.

Arthur would like to say he was sad to see the Russian leave, but he knew the lightness in his heart at seeing the gargantuan thing leave was not an odd coincidence. He was a jealous little boy, spoilt on the love of someone silly, something he knew would never last. But even if he could make it last a little longer, it would be worth it, the love sustaining him where it had failed previous.

Ivan may not have been sure how the other two nations felt by the end of that weekend, but he was completely drained. Keeping up his cheery mask usually wasn't so difficult, but the last two days he really just wanted to get away from them all. Sure, he liked seeing the little boy, who wouldn't?, he was a complete sweetheart… But it was the other two he had a problem with. They were so familiar from all those centuries, but at the same time they felt like strangers. It had been nearly twenty years since he had seen either of them other than on official business… It was like that with most of the nations, really, save for a special few and those who were under his curtain.

It was really quite stressful, he didn't know what to do or what to say or what was safe to bring up or what they should just completely ignore. It just felt really awkward to Ivan, and he didn't like that tight feeling in his chest. But, he kept up that smile and stayed strong and proud, never letting how uncomfortable he was show.

But, that's what made that cab ride back so nice. He didn't have to talk to the cabby, he had begun speaking with the thickest accent he could muster and then switched to Russian successfully keeping any conversation at bay with the painfully white driver. So he was able to sit in the seat and look out the window, unbothered by any annoying small talk.

-AFJ—IB—

It was in a couple of days after Ivan left that Alfred sent him a text message during his meeting with the utilities companies.

_Hey, thanks for coming out, it was fun~ Little Al says he misses you~ did you have fun~?_

-IB—AFJ—

That buzz never ceased to surprise Ivan, no matter how many times he had heard it there on his desk before. This time, however, he jumped extra high because the volume was turned on with the loud annoying beep accompanying that buzz (He had turned it off after about four days without a single message or call).

_It was no trouble, it was actually quite fun. Thank you for having me._

-AFJ—IB—

_No problem~ it's fun having guests~~ so whatcha doing~?_

-IB—AFJ—

_Working._

-AFJ—IB—

_Boooooooring. :P I'm in a meeting myself._

-IB—AFJ—

_Then why are you sending me messages? That starved for human interaction?_

Just because he had to be nice in front of the boy, didn't mean that Ivan had to always be polite. He knew that Alfred must have been faking as well, there was no way they'd be forgiving each other any time soon. _Even if maybe that would have been kind of cool…_ Ivan thought to himself.

-AFJ—IB—

_No! :P _ Alfred glared at the phone. '_Yes…' _ the quiet part of his mind told him. He was a little lonely. Not that he would ever tell anyone. _Lonely at the top? HA! impossible XD_

-IB—AFJ—

_I see… Then why? Seems a silly thing to do._

Oh, but it was not silly at all. Ivan was so happy to have gotten word from anyone who didn't work in the Kremlin or reside in Moscow and sell him things. It almost made him feel somewhat okay.

-AFJ—IB—

_I don't know, figured it'd be interesting… unless you want me to stop._

It was half of the truth…

-IB—AFJ—

"Dammit."

_You may continue._

-AFJ—IB—

_YAY! :D so what up~? Anything silly happen~? Ya know, my friend over in HR just showed me that Man Like Putin video~ XD MAJOR LULZ!_

-IB—AFJ-

Ivan honestly hadn't any idea how he was to respond to this. Of course he knew the video in question, he found it quite embarrassing, really, but what did Alfred mean if anything 'silly' had happened… Silly things usually didn't happen high up in the Russian government or military…

_I made Georgia cry the other day… That was amusing, I suppose._

-AFJ—IB—

_What? Who the hell gave you the right to make my baby girl cry?_

Alfred instantly worried for his lovely little peach and called her immediately. Despite that he was in a meeting, she picked up and answered with a yawn: "Yes, Daddy?"

-IB—AFJ—

_The country, Amerika. The country. Did we not have this conversation back in 2008?_

That American was so… ignorant. It really had happened, during the Beijing Olympics when Ivan first invaded the little country. Alfred had gotten so worried, now it made sense why.

-AFJ—IB—

"Oh thank God you're okay."

"Why Daddy? What happened?"

"Nothing, that stupid Ruski said he made you cry."

"He meant the country Georgia, not me."

"…oh…"

"Yeah."

"Bye Georgia."

She giggled.

"Bye Daddy." There was a click and he looked at his texts. "Oh…hmm."

_Guess so, but I still have to be careful. They are my precious little babies :3_

-IB—AFJ—

_Bet you do not even know half of the countries in Europe… I will pay you money if you can name them all._

-AFJ—IB—

"Ha, this'll be cake." Alfred then went online, found a list of all the countries of Europe, copied that list into a text and sent it back to him.

-IB—AFJ—

_Cheater. _

He must have cheated. He was a cheater, anyway…

_You did that much too quickly. You cheated, so you get no money._

He didn't like playing with cheaters…

-AFJ—IB—

_Dude, you never said I couldn't use the internet~ ;P_

_-IB—AFJ—_

_And I never said how much money I would pay you. Or when._

-AFJ—IB—

_See? It's all g : )_

-IB—AFJ—

_So this bet was for naught? _

-AFJ—IB—

_Pretty much :p_

-IB—AFJ—

_I see… Then it seems we have come to a standstill here, nyet? What do you propose we do now?_

"Sleep, hopefully…" It _was_ growing dark outside, and it'd been a few days since Ivan'd gotten a good full night's sleep. Alas, he still had work to do, so that was merely a pipedream…

-AFJ—IB—

_I dunno. I bet you're working. That's all you ever do ya know. Lol, you were so pale, it was pretty lolarious. XD I bet your friends all miss seein' ya out in, ya know, the daylight XD_

Alfred stood up, thanked the Utility companies for their time, and then got the hell out of there.

-IB—AFJ—

What was he supposed to say to that? Friends? That made him want to laugh, or maybe cry… Or both? Damn emotions, they were such a bother. It almost made him miss the 1990s, back when he was able to just be numb. And Pale? Was he really that pale? He had been working early and staying late a lot… But, there was nothing wrong with that, right? Maybe he'd just get back to work…..

-AFJ—IB—

As Alfred snuck out of his office, he called the flower shop that was a few blocks outside of Arthur's office building in the UK.

"Flo's Flora, how can I help you?"

"Hey Flo!"

"Alfred! I had a feeling you'd be calling me again."

"You know I love your work."

"The usual then?"

"You know me too well Flo."

She giggled on the line, Alfred cracking a grin as he waved good night to his secretary Norman.

"Thanks doll."

"Not a problem Alfred." There was shuffling on the phone as she filled out an order card. "What message this time?"

"'You should be kissed and often, by someone who knows how.' Love Always, Alfred."

"_Gone With the Wind,_ a classic Mr. Jones, he'll love it."

"I hope so. Thanks again Flo."

"Never a bother Mr. Jones, never a bother." When that call was finished, he checked again for messages. _Hmm… nothing…._

So he wrote another message.

_You still there?_

-IB-AFJ—

_Sadly._

It had been such a hot night, even after ten o'clock. Unbearably, really. Hard to breath. But what was the Russian to do? He had no car, so he walked the few blocks to and from the Kremlin each day. He didn't like how the sun worked up north, but it was better than it had been in St. Petersburg, at least…

Regardless, Ivan marched on, watching the traffic mildly with a flat expression as he flicked the lighter into life and lit a cigarette.

-AFJ—IB—

_Lol, what's got you down in the dumps?_

Alfred finished up some work on the car ride home, soft jazz coming from up front where his driver, Gordon, sat. Of course, he could drive on his own, but it kept a man employed and he enjoyed the company.

Once home, he poked around his fridge, looking for something to eat.

-IB—AFJ—

_Would being truthful and saying you be too hurtful? Regardless. You._

Well, it was true… Even if maybe he sort of kind of a little bit wanted to have a friend… Well, friends didn't lie to one another, right? So… right? A dog was barking from one of the nearby apartments and Ivan quickened his pace. Even if he was more than capable of holding his own in a fight, he didn't much feel like it tonight.

-AFJ—IB—

_Jeez. Tell me how you really feel._

Alfred scoffed and decided on leftover Thai, starting to heat up the cardboard boxes from the fridge. While that was heating up, he flipped on the TV in the kitchen and started cycling through the channels, landing on BBC America. It didn't help that a good portion of his population were anglophiles on these lonely nights.

-IB—AFJ—

_I just did, Amerika…_

The door usually stuck in the winter but this summer had been particularly volatile. The humidity caused the wood of the frame to buckle and bloat, forcing him to ram it open with his side rather than use his sore left wrist. It had been bothering him for a while now, the temperamental and rebellious region of North Caucasus.

Ivan felt a little tight feeling as his chest as he thought for the hundredth time in the last few days what it would be like to have his own 'children', how it would be if his regions were like Alfred's states… _Who am I kidding..? _He thought as he grabbed a bottle of Vodka and made his way up to the empty and lonely bedroom, _They would hate me. They would fight me. They would try and kill everyone… _He lied down upon the sheets; it was too hot to burrow tonight._ …Or I would kill them._

But those thoughts were the kind that he was supposed to try and drink away.

Ivan didn't feel like talking anymore, so he put his phone under his bed.

-AFJ—IB—

_Sarcasm dude. w/e. bye then. Ttyl._

After he ate his meal and spent the night zoning out to the tv and checking out a few YouTube videos, he went upstairs to his empty bed, dropped down to his boxers and climbed into a strange sleep. His dreams bounced all over the place, from memories to reality to what could be.

He woke up feeling unrefreshed.


End file.
